so i'm in the local cheque-cashing joint
the line is long or so it seems
there are two drunk natives at the window
slurring expletives to the girl behind the partition
a man in a nice looking suit is ahead of me
i suppose he's the oddball here today
an old chinese lady sits on a bench to my left
behind me walks in an older gentleman
dressed in nice enough clothes that have seen better days
he comes so close to me that i begin to feel antsy
i can feel his warm sherry breath on the back of my neck
finally unable to bear it any longer
i turn my head and say hello and smile
a response does not appear to be on its way
his eyes are crazy
his right arm is upright
so that his hand is parallel with his jaw
his entire hand is bandaged
wrapped so many times that its size is monstrous
"hello," he finally says, "my name is michael"
i tell him that mine is as well and nice to meet you
how are you today, i ask him
"not bad," he says, "for a guy who's just had a finger amputated"
my eyes raise up in that stupid fashion
that signifies shock and concern
there is indeed a digit missing
"doin' a helluva lot better than the other four guys," he chuckles
"they're no longer walking god's green earth"
i force an awkward laugh
even thinking to myself - wow, that sounded so fake
"michael huh," he repeats, "know what it means?
no, i shrug
"means the hammer of god, michael does.
would you like to hear a poem about it?"
i smile and say that i would
he proceeds to deliver a beautiful piece of writing
in a most grand and jovial manner
all about michael - the hammer of god
i was touched, i really was
all i could think was that i wished she had been here with me
to witness this scene and all its irony
here's these two almost-strangers in a queue
both of us a brawler and a poet
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