Strolling

(a postcard poem)

A library walk
in the early afternoon
leads me past a man (I assume)
lying on the stone wall,
the warm sun catches him
full on the body
in a position I can never attain,
bicycle at his side.


When I roll back,
I find him crying-
and here I suspect
I misgendered him-
shirt off.

I wonder
what’s going on.