Congruent Beginnings

Oh, he sits and waits,
sits and waits.
No expectations,
a smile on his face.

He sits and he sits.

Nothing particular in mind,
staring across the open field,
welcoming the resolute;
the convivial expansive green span.

“God, what a beautiful life.”
A beaming heat,
threatening him with blisters
on the souls of his feet.

Again, to himself;
“God, what a beautiful life.”
No one suspects that he has never had
the ample satisfaction.

“So what size do you measure, kid?”
I ask.
“I don’t know.”
“45,” his credulous friend responds.

The boy,
He looks up at me, knowingly.
“God.
What a beautiful life.”

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