He sits just off the path
in the community square
flanked by a few raised beds
growing limp tufts of greens
and the high school students
who sit on the steps
smoking and giving each other wedgies
he breathes in and out
his head still
his body a ghost
fastened to itself
I’ve seen him before
but I didn’t notice him today
until he spoke to me
and I immediately wondered
if I could pretend I didn’t hear
since I was already late
but he spoke again
that underwater voice
that reclined machine
that halo of tubes
it took me a few minutes
to understand him
the curtain opens
and it is spring
the gratitude knocked the wind out of me
not for life but for him
this poet parked
in his fate
reminding us all
that a play is unfolding
whether we are watching
or not.