for the homeless man on the corner of candler park blvd, that he might use poetry as a blanket for sleeping on the street.

I really like patrick rosal.
---
sometimes when I read Rosal
on the bus
we drive past homeless men,
yellowed fingers gripping cigarettes, puffing
defiantly at you
(or maybe just smoking)
and unafraid to hold my gaze through
the tinted windows
of the bus.

in the midst of so much beauty,
swept up in electric verse
youforgetsocialnorms
and don't look away.

we tint bus windows for equal anonymity
because I'm too poor to own a car
and you're too poor to ride the bus
(is it always us verses them?)

we look straight ahead and pretend
that no one's watching
or we watch out the windows, protected by
tinted glass
and think he can't
see me looking.

poetry throws into harsh light
my lack of human contact, just like his and
I'm not yelling at him,
but whispering beauty silently to myself
and I'm hoping he'll look back
and that he might have read Rosal.
-4/25/08