Contrary Warriors

He had tin cans in his hands
tottered like a cow on high
heel hooves
cloven, apart from us
through the glass
across the street
on a another plane

Each step of four moves
Can/hand
foot
can/hand
foot

Edging closer to the corner
The crowd grew, fixed
We were breathless
when he stood up
to the garbage can

He stripped each piece
of ragged raiment, folded,
placed, ritually positioned
among the water bottles, fetid wrappers
wads of gum Naked before
his chosen alter I
anticipated assentation

One over long minute
elapsed, before he bent
above the maw redeemed
his protective coating
can/hands
gait

He rewound our memory
replayed our sight,  spoke with a glance
” Never think of me again”

Related Article:

Garbage as our Alter Ego

Chicago Il. April 6th 2013 Napowrimo day 6

© 2013 Abby Smith, Writer