when he hangs his hat above you
and tells you he's home—he madly
strayed to skyscrapers and left the blue
to stare at the grey. when he knocks
the snow from his boots, keep in mind
that this on all the earth is where he docks
his tired body.when he comes home you will find
that his face—devoid of grander joys—
has seen such things beyond your being;
beyond the sight of you, his boy—
a warming sight, but a sight beyond seeing.
though he's lost his Mecca in return to bland,
he gives you your Mecca in the form of a tuna can.
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