LESTER

He had a tattoo on his forearm

of a face, faded through the years,

even he can’t remember who it is.

A cat rubs against his leg. He sips casually

on a root beer. His boots dull from travel.

Hair black as a night cave, pushed back

flat like a helmet shined with grease.

 

A dungaree shirt and pants are his armor;

cerulean blue has been washed out of

his wardrobe. A large belt buckle adorns

the front and center of him.

 

His glasses are clear, though a memory he

confesses now lacks clarity.

 

He says, “This town is just a wide sidewalk

in nowhere.”

 

He mumbles something about home and then

smiles before leaving.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s