All The Weird Ones Come To Me
by Antoinette Treadway
because I look them in the eye because my big brother is crazy
all the bag men, the artists, gonzos, sparechange, rattling,
careful, gleam-in-the-eye, nothing-up-the-sleeve,
hustle-round-so-no-one-sees,
quick-quick men
all the fruitcakes you’re bound to meet on the streets of America
so I visit my brother in the nuthouse and they gather round
to bum a light
to smell me to tell me to show me
and never once to hurt me
except in their pressing-in all the time
and then my brother shepherds me outside
more transparent than the ones inside
softer and docile
and I am thankful
but he is needy, too, a thin wet dog,
a careful dog eyeing my shoes
hungry and hurting
ready for a light
so puppy-small and lost at times
if I touch him when he’s called in
he does not leave so hard
nor go so far
Copyright © 2014 by Antoinette Treadway.