Zachariah Wells

Pages: 1 2 3 4

George, Crossing Guard


You were sometimes slow, George, caught offguard

by my crisp clip as I approached your post


and hit the curb before you could shake out

your slouch and lift your red sign to stop


the traffic’s flow. So what? You always had

a quiet word, a smile for my serious


son in his stroller. Though I can’t say

I knew you, George, you likely weren’t


in the class this world considers gifted;

your acts must all have had the same slow,


ungraceful way about them. What of it, George?

If all you did until the day your heart


caught you offguard and felled you

was show up and do no harm, well sir,


that is a lesson that might give

the arms dealers, investment bankers


and plastic surgeons of America

pause, before they step out from the curb.


Pages: 1 2 3 4

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