From Nerve Cowboy #13, Spring 2002

 

Eyes

Ralph Dranow

 

"There's a strange man

Sitting on the front steps,"

My wife, Carla, says.

"I'll go check," I reply.

A blueshirted back greets me

In the voluptuous afternoon.

I approach him,

Say hello.

Large, childlike eyes float up at me,

Seem to plead for a moment,

Then drift away.

A stream of saliva

Slides down his pale chin,

Soiled shirt spilling out of khaki pants.

"I'm just resting for a little while,"

He murmurs.

"Are you OK?"

A slab of silence, then:

"Just a little tired."

He gazes straight ahead.

"Do you live around here?" I ask.

A glazed stare.

Finally he yanks himself from his reverie

And whispers, "I'll go soon."

Inside I tell Carla,

"He's harmless but pretty messed up.

He says he'll leave soon"

An hour later he's still there.

We ponder,

Reluctantly decide to call the police.

They're softvoiced,

Gently take him away

But the naked look in his eyes

Won't leave.

 

 

 

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