artwork: ralph murre
Bennie
by
Don Schaeffer
Just
earning a living;
I
look at his hair, thin
but
he owns it.
When
I see how he tries to part it
my
heart opens.
There
is a rim of something moist
and
the grease has
spread
to his shirt.
I
decide I can forgive him for that.
I
suppose he will go home
sometime
where it's dark and
solitary.
He will
wash
and run
his
hand over his scalp and
put
those precious pants
over
a chair, sink onto some kind of bed
and
close his eyes.
~
previously published in Tryst
