He
sits at the small round wooden table
with
his back against the wall,
and
the gray hoodie pulled over his head
during
this rainy summer evening.
For
the longest time
he
sits here,
quiet
and
alone,
his
head down,
maybe
catching a nap.
I'm
thinking,
he
could be homeless.
It's
nice of the establishment
allowing
him to lie low,
off
the streets,
with
a place to quieten the mind
and
rest his body.
The
sound of sirens grow stronger
as
the vehicles rush in behind the building.
Are
they here for him?
He
gets up and
walks
across the floor,
goes
behind the bar
and
in front of me he takes the soda gun
making
himself a drink.
His
reply to a patron,
“A
cook tripped the back door alarm.”
Obviously
he works here,
and
I think again
not
to judge from appearances.
Inside
this urban bar
nestled
among Nicollet Mall,
a
group of guys are singing,
“Country
roads, take me home.”
___
Jim Creston is a contemporary poet residing in
Minneapolis, Minnesota. Some of his
recent works have been published in the online magazines CUIB-NEST-NIDO and In
Your Face Radio. Jim has released his first book of collected poems titled
Don't Swallow The Toothpaste.
