Old Man With Checkers

a man who hadn’t heard that he was dead
killed a man who hadn’t heard that it was his day to die
I could hear the heartbeat rhythm in my head
the sound that stillness makes in a storm on the street
in a colorless night of pretty roses
roses I had wished for in a storm that curls under doors
windows smashing    amusing
those who scrub their skin with jellyfish /
you’d better duck down the alley
if you’re gonna walk like that my brother
or the next one might be for you