He Sits
by Sy Roth
He sits in his garage,
Dressed in black jogging pants,
Black nylon jacket striped in white along the sleeves matches.
The pants bottoms pulled up to his calves show
White support hose
Makes his ankles look like sausages.
He sits side saddle on his plastic chair
Ragged-thin flowery cushion draped at his back
Peonies stretched paper thin,
Pores over the latest installment of Newsday.
Neighbors’ petty queries, wonder.
Ubiquitous red-hazy cigarette aglow between his yellowed fingertips,
He exhales gray clouds of smoke.
Like a Sphinx, he guards his space
An aging monument tinctured in carbon monoxide.
Lonely warrior of a steamer trunk of memories
Piled helter-skelter into the corner of his loneliness.
Conducts the business of waiting and sitting
As the copse of cigarettes mound.
He resides at his table
Hunched in his plastic chair
Crossing and uncrossing his sausaged legs
Newspaper words, a shimmering oasis
Dance on the pages before him.
Lackadaisically he turns his head to the street
A plume of smoke escapes his lips,
In a passing nod to humanity.
He sits.
###
Retired after forty-two years as teacher/school administrator, he now resides in Mount Sinai, far from Moses and the tablets. This has led him to find words for solace. He spends his time writing and playing his guitar. He has published in Visceral Uterus, Amulet, BlogNostics, Every Day Poets, Barefoot Review, Haggard and Halloo, Misfits Miscellany, Larks Fiction Magazine, Danse Macabre, Bitchin’ Kitch, Bong is Bard, Humber Pie, Poetry Super Highway, Penwood Review, Masque Publications, Foliate Oak, Miller’s Pond Poetry, The Artistic Muse, Word Riot, Samizdat Literary Journal, Right Hand Pointing, The Screech Owl, Epiphany, Red Poppy Review, Big River, Poehemians, Nostrovia Poetry’s Milk and Honey, Siren, Palimpsest, Dead Snakes, Euphemism, Humanimalz Literary Journal, Ascent Aspirations, Fowl Feathered Review, Vayavya and Kerouac’s Dog.
