a Hegelian dialectic at 5:40 a.m.

by Trevor Mitchell

sitting alone
in my car
smoking
a cigarette
in a deserted
supermarket car-
park on
the edge of town
at 5:40 a.m.
wishing I was
someone else.

an old man appears
out of
nowhere;
he weaves in
and out
of my
peripheral vision,
moving across my horizon
at speed
pushing
a shopping cart
stacked with his
life
remaindered in plastic bags
while seagulls
angularly rise
and then
wheel
in perfect geometric arcs
as the shopping
cart sounds
an obscenity
across the concourse.

the old man
mutters to
himself

his matted
beard is heavy
with religiosity,
his historical crotch
mildewed
with piss stains

and just for a
second our eyes
burn into each other
and he smiles
laughs
and nods.

I take
another drag
on my cigarette
as the sun
comes up
over the railroad
tracks,
laughing at the
futility of us
all.

One Response to “a Hegelian dialectic at 5:40 a.m.”

Mike Marcellino

September 29th, 2009 at 8:39 pm

not usually too big on hobo tales, but yours is quite good,

like this part especially

“and just for a
second our eyes
burn into each other
and he smiles
laughs
and nods.
I take
another drag
on my cigarette
as the sun
comes up
over the railroad
tracks,
laughing at the
futility of us
all.”