So Much Depends Upon

I
Brush my teeth with cement toothpaste
On a bristle-less toothbrush

I scrape, spit the blood out
Look at myself in disgust
In the mirror spackling with spit
So old it reminds me of
How much inactivity I’m capable of

From the corner office we
See an accident on 18th and Cross St
Where an old man in a grey sweat jacket
Is professionally re-directing traffic
We can’t hear emergency vehicles for miles

As the traffic depends
upon

A grey old
man

Glazed with rain
water

Besides the white
wreckage