Folded In a Black Collared Coat
A tall, pale figure
folded in a black collared coat
walks down the water-slicked sidewalk.
Rain rolls off the brim of his fedora
and weeps a gloomy rhythm
over his left eye.
His hands in his pockets,
his head hung low,
making eye contact with no one
who passes by.
The clouds slump from the colorless sky
dripping like damp rags.
Tall cracked apartments peer groggily overhead.
He waits at a curb motionless,
a willing victim to the rain.
A black ford clunks and coughs up the road,
its wagon wheels rolling to a stop beside him.
A slender beauty in a burgundy coat
steps out from the driver’s seat.
She runs over to embrace the man,
her dark curls fall to his shoulders
as her lips meet his cheek.
The man cheerily opens the back door
and picks up a frilly child from inside.
He spins her in a circle as she giggles,
then kisses her rosy pink nose.
As if the rain had seized for that moment,
the sun reflects blindingly from office windows.
With a smile he holds the door open for his ladies
and drives off toward clear sky.
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The Ways in Which We Walk the Earth
PoetryPoetry to nourish the soul and mind, for better or worse.
