i have met the artful dodger.
he's now two score and best boy capped.
he traded pocketing wallets for splicing stories
or hustling hearts he might wear as pendants,
one eye toward balancing scales.
one eye toward balancing scales.
charm armed, this mossy upturned gem.
his tribe of lost boys, still a congregation unseen.
fringe dweller mastery, comes hard earned.
on hard streets, knocking hard, from hard choices.
though dodger's still feral,
lapidary and library smoothed broken edges.
hawk sight wed to a water rat's adventurous verve.
kwan yin's smile rained gently upon his path.
he looked up one day and decided to follow.
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