Stoop

he sits on the stoop
each day he keeps his pose
elbows on knees
hands hanging to the space
that awaits him
as he views constant traffic
day after day

his eyes move in patterns
focusing on life
left-right-left-right

thoughts hidden
behind his somber expression
counting his mortality
on invisible fingers
through narrowed unseeing eyes
with paralyzed voice
above the beat of a stagnant heart