observation at bus stop, 44th street and Camelback, 9:45 am

the tramp on the island between East and West traffic
at 44th Street and Camelback
has an abbreviated wing for a right arm
no feathers, just flesh and a snarled claw.

it’s starting to get warm,
Spring has begun to rot
into the Arizona summer
and the asphalt creates
a mirage of a mirage
the waves of heat
distort this distorted man

He is panhandling, pleading
with people who can’t see him -––
or won’t see him

zooming by
in their shiny air conditioned
50-mph consciousness

I sit at the bus stop
wearing polyester
and I can see him.

he sees me
and we both know
we are invisible.

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