I Saw A Poor Man Smiling. A Poem.

I saw a poor man smiling to the sun. 

The nerve. The shame. It broke the rules, it did.

His eyes were closed, softly glowing in the dark light.

Face still, temples at ease, bathed, in essence, 

floating in a gauzy beyond, at last the escaper.

Leaving us behind with a half formed choice

Drive on and remember or drive on to forget.

I saw a poor man smiling. He’s long gone now.

But for a moment, he stopped us, trapped us, held us

floating right where we stood, blissful, naked, and there.

Breathing free from the time of day and death or life

it was a moment of silent joy in a sea of stirred cups

brim full of syrupy myths and missed points.

Green light. I was everywhere as I drove on.