I see a pushcart man
Tired and withdrawn
Ever so slowly moving on
Who reminds me in my morning
The only work that pays off
Is hard work—
Bless his soul
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A memory upon Mt. Whitney
Heavy
cologne
and
cigarette
smoke
are
gifts
from
the
city,
of
the
people,
seated
in
the
laundromat.
I remember it vividly.
Fresh
pine
sun
kissed
trail
the
gifts
from
the
forest,
of
the
land,
seated
upon
Mt.
Whitney.
I remember it vividly.
Sharing
a shot
with
Alex.
