The Ice Man

The Ice man, he walks
Never away, just around
Drips sweat beads and cool water
Spots the dust covered ground
He don't care where he sits,
how you see him, what he say.
Winks at children, smiles at girls,
writes songs just to play.

He sat there in front of the church like some divine revelation in progress. No socks, dirty feet inside ragged sneakers. An oily shirt that read, "Bailey's Auto Repair" in white letters on blue cotton. Yellow fingers and yellow teeth - dirty beard smiling. Black eyes looking for that next connection... and a sagging cold bag of ice sweating blood stains across the cracked pavement.

He saw his mark and grinned giving thanks to the almighty.

- John Valentine 2002

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