keeper of the palace

there's a man who sits all day
in front of my apartment
his back holding up lee's palace
a little cardboard box in his lap
always seemingly empty of currency
dirty blue jays duffel at his side

i've watched this man for a year now
always keeping the wall at a 90 degree angle
he's been a lesson in mental health
a sort of live science project
right out there on the curb
mum for the longest time
that man was

he never said a word to anybody
i guess he had hoped
that the cardboard box would say enough
despite its ineffectiveness to draw

then one day a few months back
this passive panhandler of a man
began to speak
to the imaginary man now beside him

sometimes to his left
and sometimes to his right

then he began to point to this nobody figure
and he spoke in a muffled growl
wearing his madness in a hateful gaze

all that i know of this other man
is that he has a mustache
much to the dislike of our once passive
keeper of the palace

over and over and over
he points and growls and girts his teeth
"tomorrow, that mustache is coming off"
he sings

i've never seen such passion for facial hair
real or imaginary

i wish that the chemicals in his brain
would make imaginary mustache man shave
so that he could do his job in peace

like he used to