The stories are harsher
in the pervading gray of concrete
and rumbling thrum of traffic;
the young dad with a jitterbug son
waving his arms to the sky
while dad pushes sister,
the treasury of hope on stroller wheels
skittering over the ribbed sidewalk;
the slightly manic boy juiced on sugar
proclaiming ecstasy like a burgeoning Blake
his message of unrepentant joy
sparking off the passing cars
challenging the sun with human fire,
born as always from the passion,
the marrow of aliveness bright
in the limbs of a wild eyed boy.