April 27th, stopped at a light
a suburban junction
without a crosswalk, he
has empty hands, a
shirt and tie,
creased slacks
and wingtips
scuffed but new, he
looks both ways,
crosses the street, his
thin body leaning
into the wind that
blows the part in his
grey & thinning hair, his
gait is hurried,
awkward,
his right foot
at a 30 degree angle, and
I can tell by the walk
&
by the way the wind
throws his tie over his
shoulder that
there isn’t a lot
of money
in
whatever it is
he’s doing.
CP
David LaBounty lives in Michigan. His work has appeared in Night Train, Boston Literary Magazine, Word Riot, the New Plains Review, and others. His third novel, Affluenza, has just been released.
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