From the front porch I see them all go by.
Kevin with his arms awry, walking fast to the bus.
The woman sincerely leaning to the early bar, as
if there were wing or wind .
The guy next door hits the punching bag
and looks up in disgust at me.
There might be a problem.
I can't proclaim happiness or eagerness .
Kevin goes by walking too fast, his arms awry.
I thought he was young, but his hair is grayer
than the dawns that upset me, the times when
all is doubt again, except the next part.
The woman walks to the bar, leaning and smoking, again.
It's early and it has to be done, these things.
Following, following a rough choice or the
comfort of madness I stay put, for now.