Him, I

She would look at him

see through him

see the blind before his eyes.

Summer day,

people’s way,

and here would arrive

the name of his common place.

He could watch a sunrise in your eyes.

I remember now,

always laughing, bumming,

tobacco in hand

a gesture in kind,

and yet

one afternoon I could not pin down

the look seemed

well like that crucifying moment of

understanding.

I watched this man, this him,

walk through society

with a grin,

and yet something deeper inside

was he watching me or

I, him.


© Thom Amundsen 10/2021

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