Fat Man Walking

Ponderously plump, he moves through his

space and time, down the block, he fills

and empties, place, space; ponderously

slow, the weight of his years wears him,

he is this, he wears the day; the view as

far as he can see is moving along with him,

self-contained, cumbersome; neighbors

his presence they know so well, can tell

he’s coming, before the sight, the sounds

he makes, his breathing, his shuffling feet,

ground giving, compacting before, and then

expanding after, the wake he leaves behind

he never notices or the neighbors, for he is

neighbor enough for his needs, he wears

his world, no one asks him or waits for him

at the end of his walk, no dog follows him;

his walking is weighty, laborious, lumbering,

perhaps to the market, but no one asks him

and no one ever waits at the end of his walk.

             Behind It All

The community has pieces like him

pillars you might say, iconic, ironic,

the damage he might have done is

behind him now, almost forgotten,

the good he’s capable of is all they

manage to mention now, celebrate

his every gesture; all the boards he

serves on like to drop his name and

have him show off publicly for them;

he’s the face we can pick out of his

crowd, as if we were proud, so proud

of him; his money and fame precede

him, whisper his name and haunt us,

put everything we do into perspective,

lesser pieces of this puzzle, we become

background, stray pieces of furniture

in a house, a house with pillars like him

holding it up, holding us up, making us

seem small, small stray beings waiting,

enviously waiting our turn to be like that.

 

                     House Fire

There’s usually no one home at the time,

Except their pets who, of course, perish;

It’s always that wood stove or space heater

They left on its own, untended, or the flue

They never bothered to clean and never

Expected to act on its own, make its own

Decisions about smoldering embers and

Then light up the night on their back road

Or smoke up the afternoon waiting for

The volunteer firemen to show up; they get

There, eventually, put out the blaze and then

Get their moment on the evening news, get

To describe what they found and how long

It took to put it out, while in the background

The shell, the still smoking remains, exhibit A,

All the evidence we see of the life they led

Out there on the back road, away from it all,

Away from the cares of the urban or sub-

Urban day, away, a way out there where

Things burn up, where fire knows its place

Knows the power it still has over us all.

 

J.K. Durick