20150616 (judging)

Site of the fire the night this house was damaged by the burning mattress. The service box is not mounted on the wood siding this time.

Randy was sitting under 

The tree his usual spot

His months old summer garb  

Ratty from unchanged wear 

His camo blended in the neutrals 

Of grass and brush I wouldn’t 

Have seen him had he not 

Drawn heavily on his 

Everpresent cigarette and 

Made the tip glow red

Like the shock of seeing 

Deer in the forest steps away 

Thinking you’re alone 

Then you’re not the chair 

He stole from the Middle 

Eastern guy three lots east 

Had been stolen from him

He told me after I had 

Several times returned it 

To its brothers at the table

Kan Zaman kept beside 

His renovated house now 

It was gone even from there

Randy said someone else 

Had taken it so now he sat 

On the wet ground on his 

Jacket his nice new one 

Had been stolen also the 

One I returned to the 

Charity on 30th which 

He’d abandoned for several days

To be ruined in wet weather 

On the chair in his spot 

Which I took back to Kan

Did you stay out of the 

Rain last night he answered 

With his customary mix

Of truth and complaint

Oh Jeez you know the 

Shelter’s a terrible place 

All the fights so crowded 

They give me a hard time

He went on I’d heard it 

All before many times

This time his summer beard 

Longer than ever whipped 

The smoke as he talked

Had he been standing rail thin 

He’d be about six but half 

My weight the picture 

Of stage what alcoholism

Surviving on occasional protein

Mostly on alcohol his beer 

Breakfast in a can at his hip

Kan didn’t mind that he littered 

His stairway or stole the chair

I wondered if Kan knew 

The story of how he got 

The house so cheap to renovate

Randy found a mattress 

Three years ago placed it 

For the mild summer beside 

The ramshackle red Italianate 

With the brick storefront built 

Long ago then derelict vacant 

Boarded had he not been drunk

His cigarette might not have 

Fallen onto the mattress

Had it been fireproof 

Would not have sent 

Flames up the siding 

Not melted the covering 

On the wires still bringing 

Two twenty service 

To the empty house

I had by this time awakened 

To sirens of firetrucks 

Their circling red flashers 

Made my windows pulse 

Like smoke alarms for the deaf

I opened my front door

To the loud brisk crackle 

Of huge sparks from the 

Service box on the old red 

Italianate two doors 

To the west firemen on the 

Roof of the small store  

Chopped the siding with 

Axes after a fairly exciting 

Hour the electricity off fire 

Out they repacked their gear 

And were gone Randy likewise 

Was not to be seen for the

Next few months soon demolition

Permits displayed signs 

Of recovery a three-meter 

Service box hung much 

Going in and out foundation 

Repairs a new two car attached 

Garage at the rear with a porch

Above eventual paint meant 

Something good was afoot 

For the old red wreck I’m no 

Francis naked but for a 

Brown robe tied with rope 

For a belt and eager to help

The next wayward soul 

Dropping by Randy's more 

Complicated perhaps a 

Vietnam vet a neighborhood 

Fixture long in the making

Even my most charitable colleagues

Don’t stick their neck out

To get Randy shelter bath 

Or shave his life is his choice 

We together concluded we all 

Talk a lot about homeless how

We’re ready to help but here’s 

Randy and all the doors 

Including mine are closed

c. J.S.Manista, 2015