That Man, I;

That man, I;

Thirteen months ago
in a cold, dingy tenement reached
by the climb of rickety stair,
a man stood at the counter
drinking milk - chocolate -
unaided, unstrawed; the first time
in twenty-one years.

This - this he knows
is real - really happened -
he caught it
on film.

Over-filled with joy -
like the seven year old boy
showing a man
he could ride a bike -
he waited for the woman
to return home.

He showed that man - "that
is nice." he said. He showed
that woman - "that
is nice." she said.

A man sits on the kitchen floor,
Brachial, Sciatic, choked by clenching
neck, shoulder; hip and back wander
between fire and numbing cold;
mixes shortbread, remembers
those lost days;

"That is nice."
they said.

_{(letter to a friend :: January 19, 2010)}