Making Rounds
by
Michael Neal Morris
Smashwords Edition
copyright 2009 Michael Neal Morris
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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1.
Arms swing at his side
deliberately. He tries
walking with more chest than gut.
Fingers curl in readiness
to shake hands or make a fist.
2.
Around the building
in a dull, jagged circle.
Just outside the property
voices dangle from the stares
impenetrable and blank.
3.
It seems more a ruin
than a construction site. What
is he being paid
to watch on this hot Sunday
while others sleep or worship?
4.
There is no music
like the crunch of swollen feet
on dried dirt. No tune
is like the shovel scraping
across while cement. Thank God.
5.
His chest hurting, he
listens to his slow breathing
thinks about oranges
deserted on a sidewalk
colors fading to hardness.
6.
The crows’ dull complaint
overpowers the light tap
of rain on concrete.
And he sits like a drummer
who only seems to keep pace.
7.
A light sprinkling hits
his face. Wind cools his ears. Walk.
What else could he do?
Chilled weather comes like a date
he thinks he can prepare for.
8.
He wonders: Did I
ever believe I’d be rich?
He drives past eighteen
holes, trying to dig himself
from one that only descends.
9.
Last night a golf course.
Today a high school where girls
lob tennis balls
and boys wear pads to hit pads.
A grater smooths a new field.
10.
He knows he is not