It's been two--three weeks...

He rocks back and forth
by the curb's edge
hands clasped on his knees,
big slack jawed grin
under eyes like a blue sky,

"you know they're
injecting them with that
virus there, the C-D-C!" he goes,
"that's how they do it, you'll
see, we'll be hearing about it,
you know, the highways
are like a wall in Houston
(he shows 6 fingers) they got
a wall 6 miles--yeah--6 miles
and another 12 (he shows 10
then two more finger) miles
out--they're boxing us in!"

a guy drops some change
in his cup moving out from
behind me so I can't get a look
except for his back and the
impression of a grey tailored suit,

"you watch yourself," he waves,
"they don't want us to think!"

You too, I tell him
turning to go,
I take a look back
after I cross the street,
he's rocking back and forth
still, one hand on his knee
the other waving an old dixie cup,

there's a cop at the corner opposite,
a squad car rolling down the block,
somebody absently touches
the handle of a gun,
crowds of blank faces
multitudes of empty eyes,
the next day I pass by,
he's no longer there,
replaced by white sign outlined
in red:

"No parking 10/17 for street cleaning"