The Can Man Poem by Robert Leary

The Can Man



He rattles by
Steeped in his Haitian heritage
A furtive glance
Speaks a nervous affirmation of our states
Weighted down with cans that cry
For escape like metal swine
Belching metallic utterances
From a hell likened to Dante’s season
Of no seasons
A deaf old man happens by my bench
Carrying a putter reminiscent of past glories
I yell at him once realizing he cannot hear:
“On your way to the country club, why the putter? ”
“To fight off predators, ' he quips
Now I’m joined by an old woman:
“Went to Disney last week and rode the roller coaster, ”
She shares, “I’m sore”
I note people with dogs are less apt to say “hello”
Content with their alter egos
Do I hear laughter from the can man’s bag
Or is it the bantering notes of porpoises’
That idle by?

COMMENTS OF THE POEM
Paul Brookes 01 January 2012

If I could write one poem as well as you I would feel blessed Thanks for sharing. P

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Robert Leary

Robert Leary

New London, Connecticut
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