The Stranger

I remember passing you on the street.

As we walked in different directions

I felt all of your childhood's infections.

Scarlet fissures on your hands, knees and feet-

bare like an urban Olympic athlete.

Beautiful bodily derelictions!

Your skin shifted to shades of vermillion

for the sake of overcoming concrete.

You were walking north in a three piece suit

to catch the train into Los Angeles

in hopes to fulfil a lifelong pursuit

of rising to the top in a business

where corporate growth is high but the commute

rends you from the joy of being ageless.