Memory

A man at the side of the road
Is trying to lift an earthworm
From the gutter. Thin and shallow,
Still the worm stretches itself
Gray in the pool of water, then knots
As the man tries to touch it
With only two fingers – to hold it
Without cutting in with his nails
Or having to use the clean of his hand.
The rain has only recently stopped.
For eleven hours carefully the water came down.
Drains filled slowly. All day trees will be drying,
Expansion joints in sidewalks bubbling. Nearby
There is a patch of grass.
If a grip can be gotten,
An underhand toss made,
The small unclean thing
Might work its way down,
Through the grass, into too soft soil.
Others begin to watch the man.
He bends less and squats more.
His fingers will not do as they should, as he wants.
With the back of his breath he curses.
It is raining again, lightly.
A woman briefly he does not know
Holds an umbrella over him.

Copyright 1990 Jam To-Day