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Slanty Man
July 2, 2013
Pacing down the rode,
standing at an angle
as if the spine
had never meant to be straight,
he walks alone,
when not a soul
dares to enter
the forbidden ground
on which he walks.
He moves slowly,
taking his time,
never pausing, never aware
of the few cars that travel road
and shake their heads,
and wonder why he’s there.
He’s on a mission,
a journey somewhere,
determined,
blocking out everything,
taking his time,
never pausing.
He’s on a mission,
but to where,
I’ll never know.
© Sean C., Princeton, IL
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