Wednesday, June 11, 2014

Mr. Clean by Jasen Sousa

Mr. Clean


The dirt has been washed 
off his hands.  The streaks of ash 
have been removed from his face.
His socks are not full of blood.  His feet 
are without blisters from walking in looped trails 
for different places to sleep.

He is home with muscles 
on his bones, lined up sideburns, and eyes 
that haven’t seen me since 
I was a much younger man.

He carries sidewalk stories 
in his jean pockets.  Years of stepped on gum 
imbedded into the skin
on his forearms.  

The sun is out.  People walk up and down 
the streets with their own agendas, knowing, and not knowing 
where their feet, and minds 
will take them today.


My friend’s thoughts have returned him 

to my life, not to ask for extra cash, 
or a place to crash until those he has yet to pay 
find someone else to harass.

My friend has returned
looking for the all the years he has lost.
He has trusted me to help him find them.  
We will go back out at night with a flashlight,
look for all that he has dropped along the way,
and I will help him pick it all up piece by piece.




First Published
in
Somewhere Lost

Copyright © 2011 by Jasen Sousa

Copyright © All Rights Reserved by J-Rock Publishing

Library of Congress
Cataloging in Publication Data
ISBN  978-0-9714926-7-7

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