Pushcarter's Birthday Man steps out into the middle of the street
like he’s had a vision to clog
the city bustle
like he’s a traffic director without a whistle or spiffy orange pinny
just ragged rags
like his eyes are Krispy Kreme donuts
like his hair’s pubic steel wool
like he can see the whole wide world but none of it matters
like a goose has laid a pearl in his sockets
like he got nothing but lint left in his pockets
or in his life
this entire world
like he’s a compass turning drawing
perfect circles
when he was young in math class
like he’s been pushing a cart of gadgets this and gadgets that
round the city
for around 30 years since then
like he loves to hear cars honking cuz it lets him know he’s there
still
turning
like he can turn into a whirlwind and spin-return to
then
whenever
wherever
but here now
hear now
horns
adorn
run the cries straight up to skies and span the whole horizon
making wavery indentations in Hudson East River glass
and so too in ponds in Central Park so summa tha ducks begin to quack
pushing the clouds here to that they rain on cement
herding smog particles like sheeps to be shorn
bouncing off the bricks piled high and the dirt-caked windows in the middle
the interspersed brownstones and the stoops and the steps
and in through alleys avenues and streets
the cries rally
for sanity
but its all lost
ghosts
shimmer
past glimmers in their eyes
ever now so and then
blankets pile them on
carts be pushed with heart still pumping through
wheels still bumping with each crevice line in the sidewalk
and riding covering variety of distance like only pigeons and pedestrians can do
just sits back on his birthday relax and throw them some seedfeed
listen to them coo