In His Day
I don't recall what I saw first
His face of his boots
Both were old and battered
State-issued brown high-tops
One held together
By a thin torn strip
Of bed sheet wrapped and tied
Around the sole and top of the toe
It showed more
Signs of wear
Than the other boot
That seemd much newer
Leading me to believe
They had been acquired
At different times
How did they get mismatched
His face had deep creases
Or age and wear too
Black tight short weave
Receding and graying
This morning he was
Standing in line
Waiting to use one of the two
Open cell common sinks and toliets
They had to serve one-hundred and ten
Prisoners housed on Broadway
The open bunk area for the overflow
In San Quentin's West Block
Standing there in his
Baggy pajama style
Orange top and elastic banded pants
His body was ill defined
As he turned his head
I could see he was missing
A couple of teeth and
His left eye
There was a dark socket
Where his eye once was
The rest of his face
Just looked tired
[...] Read more
poem by Tom J. Mariani
Added by Poetry Lover
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