Lives in California's Central Valley and is interested in social issues.
The Missing Window
When the man on the bicycle
I think of a polite response
No not today
I don't carry cash
or pretend to be hard of hearing
or have difficulty with the English language.
Have you seen my car he says
and I wonder if he means a toy
a cart he was pulling with recyclables
and he tells me about
the Ford with the broken window.
I've called the police he says and
they put out
he struggles for the letters and i say
a p b
and he says yes but thats it
and that someone took it
and his green Ford Impalla
with the back window tore out
he starts to say and this was all
the beginning and then huffs and shovles
off into the alley
his hands were dirty and fresh scar
rode up the index finger on his left hand.
he had been in the same clothes for more than a day
and looked terribly tired.
I was ashamed of my moment of almost panic
and though to keep a look out
for Fords with missing windows and told him so.
i thought for a minute
if it was his house as well
and how he became to be relieved of his shelter
and wondered about the other actions
which happened after the start of his day
and sat back in my car
thankful for my windows
my clothes and the roads I could
navigate down through
and the rain.
© 2019 Fin
Fin (author) from Barstow on November 23, 2019:
BRENDA ARLEDGE from Washington Court House on November 23, 2019:
Such a nice little poem.
I often wonder too when someone crosses mh path and find myself thankful for all that I have right now.
One never truly knows if he is telling the truth...but it can happen to anyone.