He
drove the majestic boulevard
his
onyx black Mercedes shining
his
thoughts wandered from board room
to
stock rise and then to cabernets with legs
his
mind queried and raced and fumbled
searching
for something in him
that
could ascend and hover above the ground
and
find its way to the infinite light
until
his car stopped at the crash the death
the
injured child the woeful mother
and
he stooped and wiped blood and
took
his laundered shirt to bandage
and
swaddled the whole mess in his soul
and
sat and cried with those who cried
and
wiped the boy’s dirty feet
and
in a thin drip of light saw the glory
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