The Man With Hemp Trousers


A man stands in a park.
His hair is wild,
casting octopus shadows
on living, writhing grasses.

He is looking down,
his palms opened upward.
He is puzzled.
The breeze laughs in his face.

He pats down his thighs,
remains empty-handed.
He is confused, turns slowly,
looks down at his octopus shadow.

He walks in circles,
his hair is wild,
his brow is furrowed.
He digs in his pockets.

Closer, his eyes are red rimmed,
he laughs with the breezes.
He pulls a pocket inside out
revealing a large hole.

He clucks to himself
in sunshine,
smooths back his hair,
and walks slowly away.


Averil's Menu      Next Poem    THE WEB      ©Averil Bones