The Man Who Wasn't There

He dances at the cafe counter
And it is too much
For the assembled, who pretend
He is not there. He brought in
The contents of the pot
He was shaking all morning
When I heard his clinking metal
As I pushed my babies past him
On the way to somewhere else.

He is deadly serious
About his moves, he looks like
He is impersonating a chicken
That jerks its neck with
Syncopation and spins
Its head in counterpoint.
These twitches are at odds and
He seems so too, his physicality
Is not comfortable together.

For what it's worth
I think he probably feels
Great, actually,he is beaming,
But a little too much - I think
He's mentally ill. And I saw
Him that time, in Morrison's,
obediently tip his face up
And take its contents back
With a noisy gulp. The pharmacist
Nodded, with approval, but
She did not look, even though
He tripped over the sunglasses stand
On his way out.

My daughter has been watching him
And me watching him and
I don't know if he seems unusual
To her. She pushes pain au chocolat
Without looking down, the well-fed
Spectator at this cabaret.
She is fascinated
And jerks too, more gently and
Mimicking the man, she looks up
So openly it breaks my heart.