MOBILE MAN

'MOBILE MAN'

He comes to this motel every Thursday, Friday, or Monday.

It's not too bad of a locale, for the most part it stays pretty mundane.

I watch him though. He's got long hair, and the same clothes on every time.

There's plastic bags in stow, and a back pack that dangles behind.

He often flies up into the room, very rarely does he come out.

He must live a life full of gloom, all his joy, perhaps, fell victim to rout.

No one ever arrives to make his acquaintence, at least none that I have witnessed.

201, that's the number he inhabits week to week, finding shelter from an unknown distance.

I wonder where he goes from here, his tags presume a close estate.

His clothes are indeed quite austere, suggesting business is not the date.

This mystery of a man has left me puzzled; arriving here from year to year.

I ponder if he has a clan and someone elsewhere to hold him near.

I can imagine this hooded lynx to be the whatever my inner mind sees.

But, what I think is irrelevant, to what may actually be his hopes and dreams.

By: Charles Poore