Raw Poem Post 1

11/01/2005

The Paper Boy

He tied his shoes. The morning cold
pressed his innards flat. He squeezed
himself into the double-sided pouch
that said “Cloudless Gazette” in big letters.

Some of the letters had worn off:
“Cloudless Gaze”. He would ride
into the traffic today. He squeezed
the merest dab of toothpaste out.

He scrubbed his front teeth, fixing
on the maniacal, foamy grin he met.
He would wolf-lunge the traffic, moose-tramp
the traffic, flail the traffic.

He rinsed and spat, took the stairs
with leprechaun toes,
and flexed his fingers
into his fat blue plastic gloves.