harry
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he's on the stoop retired
every morning greeting tenants
off to work with accented english
first name familiarity don't
work too hard he says and on fridays
no more this week after today each
evening from the sidewalk he welcomes
us individually with weather status
salutations as our official ghetto doorman
in summer he says too hot for humans
or on rainy days from the eaves'
shelter too wet for ducks today he
says like a trained german shepherd
guarding the building's entrance
on weekends he buzzes me inside
from his second story window's view
so i don't have to hunt
for my keys he waits at his door
as i struggle past laden with laundry
and grocery bundles destined
for my fifth floor flat oh thanks
so much harry i say and he
invites me in for wine my wife
he says since she's gone there's no
one...it's good you have your
daughter to talk to sometimes
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Poem by Janet Cannon
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Previously published in
Curbside Splender
and
Day Laborers
(Janet's chapbook published by Plan B Press)
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