Christmas Trees
E
Eric Cockrell
0
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old homeless man...
watching then sell
Christmas trees from
a gravel lot...
thirty dollars, half memories,
faces or shadows,
long gone!
shuffles his feet,
his hands in his pockets,
fumbling his change...
old man, move on!
maybe come back tonite,
swipe a tree in the dark,
drag it on down to the tracks....
a bare Christmas tree,
and a lonesome old fire....
shadows and faces,
waiting quietly on death!
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