Bob’s legacy – from The Aliens that walk among us.

Posted: June 14, 2009 in Poetry
Tags: , ,

 The mad man in his hood shouting at the street,
restless, unprovoked;  performing  for us
sipping lattes  at sidewalk cafes,
shaking our heads at the crimelines.
The brutality to aliens.

Mad man in the hood shouts foreign at the girl with the micro skirt,
cursing her disappearing back.
His hunger forgotten, his thirst; Bob’s legacy

Man in the hood sits on the pavement
his legs sprawled  out in front of him like drying roots
his hood low over his head,

Black eyes like pools of spilt oil,
he rises up to weave aimless
from post to post.

Man in the hood’s head has sunk low
Madder than the micro girl with macro sunglasses and dumb,
Wishing for a blindfold against the mule merry-go-round.
Numb.

Man with the hood tries to explain,
talks to the trees and talks to the street,
his hand, his shoes.
Nobody understands  – even his own pretend not to know.

The Hood holds a body,
with a heart in his hand and a mouth that prays.
And all we hear is an alien sound
bubbling like water
over broken stones.

When I cross the road I realise his eyes seek mine
for a sign
of Humanity where
I fear that he finds none there.

Astrid Stark
19 August 07

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