A Well Dressed Man, by Rick Davis

In early sunlight
A well attired man
Seems to cry
Into space
,,
With angry taunts
At street people
He holds
In disdain –
,,
He would love
To toss them
In a burning
Abyss.
,,
I notice his
Banal painted
Snakeskin
Boots
,,
And as I walk
North on cloudy
Kimble Avenue
,,
I approach him
Wishing I crossed
The street
,,
And feel
Resonant anxiety
,,
And he says to me
(Or at me)
,,
“Look at the
Lazy bums…!”
,,
And I want
To tell him
That he is
,,
Sick
,,
With stereotyped
Rage.
,,
He points again
With the bony
Finger
,,
Of Uncle Sam
..
So the sun
Hangs doubtfully
In fog
,,
And I feel
A need
For a nice
Warm shower
,,
To wash off
Familiar dust
,,
That identifies
With the man’s
Demonic
Almost black
,,
Eyes,
,,
And I feel
Such sadness –
,,
His soul
Is like
,,
Empty water
Of a
Stagnant pond.
,,
Internally,
I bless this
Statued man
,,
As the wheels
Spin clockwise
,,
And as I
Head back home
The warm
Wind
,,
Relaxes me
,,
In whistling
Waves.

***

Rick lives with his wife, Marrianne, in the Chicago area.  They have a cat & dog.  Rick holds degrees in psychology, english & religion.  He authored three published books & his poetry appears in several small journals