2.24.16

San Francisco,city sitting next to sea
much like two siblings on a bus, nestling warmly together, asleep
home of giants and warriors of elite success,
but who focus on money, not compassion and other’s humxnness
my heart wishes my body never left the safety of subterranean train station

what happened?
the inconspicuous line on the wrinkles of his forehead comes to my attention
a drop oozes from the line and slithers to the cold, concrete floor
a phone dials the number, dispatch quickly answers
Hello?...Yes, A man in his 60s... Hurry.
Minutes pass, seconds pile on my shoulders
my body crunches closer to the concrete
How many times was it asked to call 911? How many times must we say yes since his stumble?
minutes pass, seconds count when it comes to a Stroke
but no one can arrest the hyper hands of the consistent clock


people come and go, but none know CPR
only how to walk by and sigh, wasted & pitiful breath
potential savior of his life
only know how to throw out dollar bills for a quick, ephemeral joy ride
but to whatever divine being out there
Ambulance! my ears don’t hear your ring like the isolated wolf
sobbing in the somber night
signaling that one of the pack fades away

Sir, are you okay?
no response
a nervous hand redials the number
my eyes listen to his eyes
dying
they tell stories mine don’t know
like the togetherness that birth brings forth or the grace of snowflakes, twirling to the ground
and sadly, the bright sparkle in the enormous, night sky

his eyes beg mine to find help
my legs take flight as a response
inflammation brims the top of my veins
but does not overflow like his pain
across the street my voice stutters through the revolving door of the St. Regent
but halts when it encounters the dreadful and rejecting word
not on the property
not our problem
a liability
but the ambulance finally arrives
without care, the officer brushes us off, all in one abrupt motion

we trudge off and descend into the station
and spiral deeper into confusion
but before I can process, my train appears
and snatches me from those eyes
those eyes that remind me, Pops could be next
it was that quick because She’s already gone
a reminder, that you should call yours like I should call mine

first revision of the first poem i ever wrote for poetry for the people.  i have to do one more revision very soon.