Dupont Sidewalk Man

Rain walking
Home.

A basket of flowers
By a trashcan
Blue, yellow,
Wilted, still juicy -
Picked it up
And kept on,
Happy, happy.

And then in the late
Rainy street:
A man
Sitting on the sidewalk.

In the middle
Of the sidewalk
In a business suit
He held his head
In his hands.

I still overflow
With spring and so
I sat down too.

"What are you thinking about?
Is it good
Or bad
Or both?"

He was surprised. "Oh
I don't
Know. Well -
It's probably
Bad."

"Want to tell me
About it? I'm just
A random stranger and
I'll go away. Maybe
You will feel better."

I had confused him.
Another man walking home
Glanced at us.
He didn't know
What to think.

"But who are you?" said
My sidewalk man. "And what
Are you doing
With those flowers?"

"I'm going home!
And the flowers -" I smiled
To confide -
"I've just found them.
Someone
Threw them away!
But they're alive.
I shall keep them
In my bedroom."

He reached
To shake my hand
And I gave it. "Well,
It's nice to meet you -"
And then I looked
Into his eyes. Oh -

They burned. Oh -
He had done
Such terrible things. And
Would do them again.
He had betrayed
He had struck in anger
And took pleasure in others' pain -
It was all burning there
And I gasped
And for a second he would not
Let go
Of my hand I
Snatched it
Back -

I had a bruise on my leg
He pointed
And smiled
With delight:
"Look. You're hurt."

He was drunk -
You know how
It can make you like
A beast -

I squeaked, "The flowers
Are for you. Please,
Take the flowers.
Good night. Good
Luck."

And ran, almost, away,
Two top speed heart thudding blocks
Before looking over
My shoulder.

I am not a priest
Not Jesus or Buddha
And I cannot forgive
All that must be forgiven.

I offered it to him
And then I snatched it back.
But I should not offer
If I cannot give.

Oh Dupont Sidewalk Man
Forgive me.
Human being
With wilted flowers
On the sidewalk
In the rain.