Silhouetted against late-afternoon windows,

his posture a lazy S, with shoulders hunched,

head tilted down toward his cell phone,

long-legged knees angled, sneakers

on the foot rail of the bar stool,

straw-colored hair an beard a little

scraggly but attractively so,

head topped with knitted cap.

The place is hardly empty,

yet when I later view the photo

I surreptitiously snapped,

he’s the only one in the picture,

as if the others had all been ghosts.


Copyright 2014

T. Allen Culpepper

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