“Ballad Of ‘Stick Man’ Part One” Tanka 1041


He pushes a tired

old creaky grocery cart

to a coming storm.

 

Basket near bare, he thread-thin

needs most his apointed rounds.*

 

  • (I’ve seen few so tall and so thin and waling so slow and pushing so old a long-out-of-date creaky and small grocery cart, not seen in any nearby store in decades, the metal wheels floppy or wobbly at best, giving both point and counter; as he shuffle-steps behind each race of wheels, rickety-ing his way up the street as stormclouds gather.  Where is he going, will he beat the storm back. What two items are those in his cart.  A jacket? A canvas sack? Who knows.  He does, though. And he determinedly makes his way across the street, around the corner and into myth.)

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