Saturday, March 21, 2009

Ode to the guy in the Audi, picking his nose

To the man picking his nose today
headed westbound on Broadway, near Edgewood,
know this: I love you and will keep your secret,
O you demigod or angel sent
to share your passion,
your brokenness,
your unexpected joy.
As you passed I imagined you receiving, someday,
the welcome fit for such an emissary:
Horns honking, trumpets blaring,
kids collecting candy hurtled forth from your tailpipe
while you, pretending unawares,
mined yet soulfully upwards,
your index finger a concrete prayer
of the world's last repentant sinner,
scraping upwards for God.


Anonymous said...

Love it!! I just stumbled upon your blog and I love your writing(and normally I am very impatient with "poets" and "writers!"

Nathan First said...

Aw, shucks! Many thanks, and please stumble by anytime. (Sorry, BTW, that it took me so long to respond. If I was the type to make excuses -- and I clearly am -- I'd say that work this week has practically swallowed me whole...)

Priscilla said...

Forgot to mention months ago, I love this poem.