At a Small Cafe, in Need of Direction by Keith Moul

Two state troopers entered and promptly checked every face.
They led a handcuffed man to the door amid customers’ voices,
first whispers, then with freer bravado; a fretful quiet returned
as the troopers, like two saints, considered legal options.

Seasonal storms blast the plain, “no place for man nor beast.”
Little shelter beckons, often a broken lock or latch is required.
No food, human avoidance, be ready to deceive if discovered.
This is no good time to walk the plain. Strain twisted his face
and the steel cuffs his wrists. They all exited toward the fields,
mute offender and the guardians of public trust, Most patrons
seemed surprised, figuring he’d get a meal, helpful advice, then
be pointed with other homeless vets toward fruitful Wyoming.
Headed east, he will battle ballistic gnats swarming Wisconsin.

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Keith Moul has published poems and photos in hundreds of magazines. He’s written for more than 50 years since leaving the U. of Missouri in 1967. He is seeking publishers for a chapbook and a full-length new and selected poems volume. Read more here: http://poemsphotosmoul.blogspot.com/

Photo: Libe Walls