The Backdrop Man

Aren’t we all just hanging on

By a loosely woven thread?…

As the heat rises from the

George Foreman grill

All the searing words I’ve said

Which I’ve maintained are sound theories

Are only linchpins to my cause

To keep my head atop the waters

As my soused heart

Drops the ball…

There’s a man who walks his bike around…

Every possession on his back…

He pauses here and there on benches

He lies beyond your daily sight…

Today you’ll pass him at a quick clip…

He’s lying dormant to the right…

When News Reporters capture on site News,

Making molehills out of sand…

You might see him slowly migrate

Holding a parcel in his hands…

Notice the wrinkles under both eyes, and on

The outskirts of his lips…

They go deeper then you could ever know…

His lids are pinched tight, as he shifts,

And gesticulates wildly

At an object in the sky…

Notice the clothing!…

The bleached apparel!…

At times we glance, then pass him by…

He is telling a bygone story…

That holds a key to what’s mislaid…

When he maps out answers in the heavens

Will you still look the other way,

Or see life within the margins

Where the grit and

Rubies flows?…

Aren’t we all just hanging on

By a loosely woven thread?…

As the heat rises from the

George Foreman grill

All the searing words I’ve said

Which I’ve maintained are sound theories

Are only linchpins to my cause

To keep my head atop the waters

As my soused heart

Drops the ball…

9/8/25

Bunny Villaire