the brother did Bojangles
sparrow-tailed turns on a mangled corner
of blacktop and gentrification
clutching corner currency
asking everyone for light
and the skies above
wept like matrons in the choir
on sabbath days.
there's no present hope
in a life full of bread crumbs
sparse and yet desired
when you are left with no teeth
to snarl, much less bite
and so this man dances
looking for a spark
to watch a life once was dressed in nicotine.
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