FLACCO DE MYRTLE AVENUE

I see Flacco everyday. In rags Bare-footed Disheveled Everyday Stammering along Myrtle Avenue On the B54 bus Sitting at that route's Adelphi stop. Not lost Not found Not invisible I call out his name On the bus. His name might be Luis Benito Jose I call him Flacco He calls me Gringo Sometimes he remembers Most times not He doesn't care if he's forgotten unseen pitied ignored or u greeted Flacco is beyond that He doesn't carry a phone or a fucking coffee cup or anything. His carbon impact is zero His clothes are rags His feet are bare I give him $2 Para un Bud Grande I have never seen him drink Smoke yes. He is the king of decomsumption Flacco understands nothing He moves so slow I hand him the $2 His smile is toothless His heart I see The coffee cup claspers have none To them they only look at their phones. Flacco sees the world What I don't know But over the last year i have often lost my mind I know crazy I know nothing I know the beauty of nothing As does Flacco Happy in the other world