The Ticket Man

22 Apr 2014

I don't know the guy, but he's always there
behind the window, ready for my ticket
to be validated, (but I don't dare
let him see me picking my teeth with it.)

I pull out of this garage and adjust
my tie in the mirror. Then I see
this filthy and uncombed man who must be
sixty or so, ruler of his dust-pile.

People look at him in his booth and jeer
while departing reflections in a rear
window of a truck glow in red neon:
backwards K, backwards R, A, backwards P.

It's my Tuesday lunchtime trip to the bank
where a lonely man works in the parkade.

[circa 1989]

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