December 17, 2019

South Station

By Tony Brown

He passes me in South Station — 

his duffel bag more duct tape than fabric,
his hair a stiff, frayed field, 
his sweatshirt bearing the words
“UNAPOLOGETICALLY BLACK”
showing from under his puffy coat —

and I hear him
softly but emphatically repeating

BLONDE
BLONDE
BLONDE
BLONDE
BLONDE

as he goes out 
unapologetically into
slushy old Boston’s
colonial headwaters,

that universal password
relentless upon his chapped lips.

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown
This entry was posted on Tuesday, December 17th, 2019 at 7:54 pm and tagged with , , , and posted in poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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