Contemplation
Contemplation
by Carl Spielvogel
I saw a man
sitting at a bench
he had a paper
held up in his
salty hands
but he was not
reading
his eyes were stout
and straight
grumbling from within.
I couldn’t help to notice
with the traffic
in full array
his splintered
bare feet
flopped out like
raw meat
on the suffocating city street.
