Sunday, May 31, 2009


Rag picker
picks at rags
at a basket,
Houston and 3rd;
an old time Bowery bum
bums his way
with a wire shopping cart
in the noonday swelter;
squeegee man
grime thicker then his skin weaves
through his maze of stopped
cars; summer came
a few months early as beds
like buds
begin to open: cheap lodging
translates to more wild Irish
and less worries.
new waves
of young drivers, their faces creaseless
and careless turn
their wipers on
squeegee man's play:
the old slapstick.
some give
what their hand falls on;
some praying
for the green light;
some laughing
as their bellys quiver
for the unknown
years. then there are some
who see their fathers,
their selves,
and grip the wheel
tighter, stare straight ahead,
and drive
to where they never
intended to go.

Norman Savage
Greenwich Village, 1977

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