Spring, Young Man Crying, Greenwich Village

Photo by  Serge Pelletier

Outside the trendy bistro

phone jammed into his ear

the dark-haired busboy

stands oblivious

to me, to the

entire urban

night-time tide

flowing all

around him.

Tears drip down his

cheek and off his chin

his stiff white cuff

is smeared with

nosesnot, gleaming

like high-priced

oyster slime

as his soft Spanish words

fall into the eddy,

pebbles pulled out of sight.

His red-rimmed eyes reject

this swanky scene,

bright silk dresses floating by

on arms of thinnest summer wool.

“It’s such a balmy night!”

His life that was so full is empty now

she doesn’t love him anymore

he can’t believe it

he can’t believe it