He’s returned to the scene; they always return.
Incognito means ball cap drawn and cheap sunglasses
hiding calculating eyes. He’s cold, duffel bag in tow –
unsure how many heads it would hold, but eager to learn.
That one’s Billy. I know because his name is repeated ;
his mother’s screech is invasive. Jeans torn at the knees,
pulling chewing gum from hidden places, saying curse words
to the old man “shushing” in the library. Glue for Lepages.
Just an observer, that’s all I’ve become. In the doorway,
out of the downpour. Tabulating cars/buses; trusses on the “El”;
going to hell for lascivious thoughts. I ought to get work. A jerk
feeling a draft below not knowing my fly’s undone. I’m cold too!
© Copyright Walter J. Wojtanik – 2013
THROUGH THE EYES OF A POET'S HEART 
Great sounds in with the stories, and the stories are just enough detail and just enough tease. Really like “Tabulating cars/buses; trusses on the “El”;going to hell for lascivious thoughts”.
I also like the sound in this one Walt, and you are right, we see a lot more than we think we do,
Elizabeth