Reading glasses bought at the Dollar Storeadjustable aluminum cane with a gray rubber boot. October leaves piled along the streetdownsized burial mounds of suburban tribesmen. He is running, or so its seems. Spastic legs churning without direction. Tripping forward in a three legged race with himself.
Rail cars pound by,empty steel boxes with a dusting of coal.
Vacant spaces returning home for more. Without his shiny cane,without his 2X lenses,clawing at the sidewalk as if it were something he could climb. Rising unsteadily, a splitting image of himself. He reaches up to a jaw that will never heal. Crisp red oak and acid yellow maple stick to his favorite sweater.