Don’t look at me while I die
Thinks Jerry on his porch sucking cancer in a painful hunch
He stares at my dog but gives no recognition of my forced smile his way
Jerry’s old Tacoma with one hubcap and a fifty year fade defeated as he
Slumped and crumbling as Portlandia hipster zips by on what is now a ‘bike highway’, no more through traffic on Clinton Street
But Jerry is through.