poetry

Sean A.

“Nate the great at the gate at 8”
he yells this when
he sees us and giggles
uncontrollably

he needs paper and a pencil
he needs to make a call
he tells me his ex-wife is
from Cuba

we read Carl Sandburg
he shouts “Jesus Christ”
he has hair like Malcolm Gladwell
and eyes like the ocean

he quotes Jeremiah 17
he asks “are you Irish?”
he turns to the crowd
he tells them I am beautiful

“I love my inner most self”
he writes this with a heart for an ‘o’
his coffee floats an island
of sugar and powdered cream

he is still talking about Cuba
as I wave goodbye
from the protection of
my seatbelt

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