Watching People Drown
Robert Duddy September 14, 2011
.
sitting on a bench in Denver
I relished the industrial orchestra
that passed me by,
of motors and oil
.
I let the scents and sounds wash over me
after many months in the mountains.
.
an old native american woman
with no apparent direction, walked up to me
dressed as if for the first day of school
but decades too late
.
I, was in a smokescreen of content
and she was interrupting that,
she looked at me and waved
a favor I grudgingly returned
.
“have you seen wazo? She said
“No I have not” I said
“if you see him, tell him I’m looking for him.”
.
she stood there looking at me,
not really a stare
probably looking at something
far off in the distance
I just happened to be in the way
but if that was the case
so was half the city of Denver,
.
.
finally,
she continued on.
.
drunkenly perhaps,
she stopped at the corner
stepped off the curb
and was baptized by the water,
the motors and the oil
.
sitting on a bench in Denver
by the edge of a stream
I watched an old native american woman
swept away in the current of the american dream
