Pushcart Man

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Tired and withdrawn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

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.