poetry by j matthew waters

errand boy in a foreign land

go and find out what the people
are saying on the streets he tells me
so I put on my coat and gloves and hat
and leave the safety of the consulate

the winds are strong and push me
three blocks toward the city center
to the river where a mass of unknowns
huddle with picket signs and chanting
in a language I do not understand

the closer I approach the swarm
the more I realize I’m an invisible alien
set out on some improbable quest
quite possibly never to return back home

january two thousand twenty
copyright j matthew waters
all rights reserved

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