Thursday, August 30, 2007

John Doe

Last night the neighborhood watch reported a raggedy, sandy-haired hobo.
His willowy silhouette passed over lawns and through front and back yards,
in and out of lamplight, under a clear half moon.

That was a Saturday in August, when I slept soundly, windows open, miles upstream from the city of sprinklers. That was when I dreamt and forgot anonymous dreams.

On Sunday morning a keeper of public works arrived with his mower and rakes to the scene: the fresh wreck of a deer, little gore and no horns, flung up on the clean grass between tennis courts and boulevard, in the sun.


ash said...

Very nice. Is the hobo the deer? Or is the deer that died separate from the hobo but included as a play on the title "John Doe"?

eped said...

I don't exactly know. there's an investigation underway but nobody will tell me anything.