Friday, May 5, 2023

The Crane

On the way to work, I often pass the homestead of the homeless man under Wacker Drive.

It's an oddly littered place of old blankets and sideways prescription bottles


garbage and dead bird feathers


and when I pass him he is always sitting, staring straight ahead.

Always sitting, always staring, staring straight ahead.


Today was different for when I came to the homestead of the man 

under Wacker Drive

there was a different man

sitting and staring.


He had different skin, different features, and he was a different man.


Yet he was sitting, staring straight ahead.


Before I could mull too long on this, I was taken

by a small, tough man coming toward me on the sidewalk

with tattoos up and down his stocky, hairy arms

a heavy looking t-shirt as white as the cigarette 

in his teeth

he was smoking and it was coming out of his face

like a smokestack

like his whole head, rather than just his mouth, was smoking

reminding me of a cartoon

on a Saturday

he was focused and nervous

possibly as crazy as the man I just saw sitting and staring


But then my attention was taken like luggage on a plane

toward a woman standing on the sidewalk

with a brown cigarillo between her lips

the cigarillo the same color as her skin

and her dark hair fell

as she held up a box of matches

and entire box of matches

to make a light


and last, but oh not least

a woman in a brown leather jacket and tight pants

throwing up her arms like it was a national tragedy

that a cab passed her by


and up, up high

there's a crane

dropping a pile of rope

down into a makeshift wooden basket

where a man in a hardhat seems disinterested

and a man in another color hardhat, a white hard hat

comes out, presumably to undo the rope

from the crane