Mr. Otis.

14 February, 2012 § Leave a comment

I made a new friend today.

His name is Otis and
he has a scratched metal hook
with cold lines and rust spots
instead of five fingernails,
fourteen knuckles
and countless fingerprint lines.

He said he stays just around the block from me:
overalls, fatigues and Navy cap.
We each ate a granola bar together —
small flecks of oatmeal littering the sidewalk at our feet
like so many pieces of a promise —
and he told me that he was anxious to get his TV back
out of the shop.

“Piece in the back just busted,”
he confided in me.
“Guess it was gettin’ a bit loose
and then last week — it just fell out altogether.
They gonna solder it back together, though,
and I can’t wait.
Sometimes TV feels like my only comp’ny these days,
you know?”

Yeah.

I know.

Mixed media :: Sabrina Ward Harrison

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