from Gene’s Notebook

…in corners, on benches, through busted doors and windows, ripped siding, the man finds rest, dozing, heavy belly heaving, maybe one eye open …and yesterday, sitting on a guardrail, he was shampooing his wild grey hair and wild grey beard, shampooing without rinse water ….

…in the foggy dawn, two cars pull into the parking lot across from the elderly care facility; two women get out, lock their doors and begin to walk to the rear door of the facility, past two swollen dumpsters, those stained plastic gloves, bunched adult diapers, and ring the rear-door buzzer, ready to enter, the residents still asleep, hall lights on, quiet start ….

…closer and closer to downtown comes The Wall, vertical steel, horizontal concrete, The Wall, moving, moving, down-river, and I looked at the green-weed-filled river, and then looked back at The Wall, and I am sure it moved a foot or two when I had looked away ….

…knowing the man, knowing the women, knowing the residents, knowing border-crossers, the abstract, maybe that’s how it always is, the abstract ….