The vagrant whose tarpaulin palace
I saw on the abandoned wall
of the castle ruins along my walk
to work seems to have disappeared.
I imagined asking him where
he once called home and what color
he would paint his walls if he could,
but I suppose he’s busy building his palace
on some other abandoned corner.
Did the city officials responsible
for his eviction give him and his tarps
a 30-day notice, or did they stand by
as he gathered his belongings
into weathered bags and plastic sacks
stolen from trash cans garbage day morning?
Maybe they gave him until 5:00 that evening,
only to find he stopped keeping track
of time years ago, so how about sundown?
What good is time when the only lamp
you own sets at the end of the day?