Tuesday, October 28, 2014

Dr. Charles Charlie Martin

One of the city’s marginal,
laughing in genuine mirth,
passed me going the other way.

That was last week.
Today a barefoot woman
roared at Market Street.

I had my face on,
and I didn’t know (often)
what I should do.

That’s part of urban life:
how busses are big red ads
and a busy street is a zoo.

It might have been the laughing man
who defaced the photo
where suddenly my feet

stopped: a doctor, stethoscope,
magic-marked red mouth,
neat black hair and bowtie,

and wet, beating heart
held on his fingertips
beneath the texture of trample. 

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