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Gratitude

people declared that he secretly sold
fingertips to angels; lips to brooks
best quality you can get ‘round here.

they said that
his hair used to be blond before
he gave that gold away to a wedding ring.
that perhaps he had eyes once
brown under green under black
and now his eyes silently watchful on
dewy summer nights.

it was the cruel significance of realization, of resignation, of hope






to be bartered and profited


that he shuffled his feet, arms like strangulation, voice hoarse and strong

how do you thank someone who
always looks like he’s thanking you?

how do you thank

the blind jazz bum on 54th street?




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