To stop chasing his tail
he sat down on the ground
like a beggar to prey
Upon demons in dreams
as they enter his ears
to listen to his thoughts
No one who sees him knows
why he sits on the ground
the noise inside his head
Earworms tickle the keys
of a grand piano
he used to play the grey
Skies dark with tears weep not
for the man on the ground
his concert days over
As he sits quietly
minding his own business
people who pass toss coins
Inside an old top hat
he sets down on the ground
beside his crossed legs
Silver quarters and dimes
tickle his ears funny
shimmering as he squats
Right down to fight demons
to skirmish on the ground
the dust rises like bread
Inside his mind he smells
memories of years past
waking up before dawn
Eager to buy a loaf
of dark rye on the ground
he blows on the shofar
Notable for its sound
to announce the morning
light the search for his loins
Despite sitting alone
silently on the ground
the man never once begs
Earnest to make his peace
with mistakes and his lot
in life the man takes care
Mentally to keep still
in public on the ground
never to shed a tear
Only he knows the looks
he gets from the people
who pass by women fawn
Reeling over his beard
spinning tops on the ground
wound round his finger bear
Torment in their own hearts
they reflect on stillness
on solitude and fear
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