Soul Man
John Grey

Iím talking up the soul.
Whatís it like exactly?
Like the invisible man
in those old black and white movies?
Or the wings of blue-birds?
I would prefer there be
some soaring involved.
We all have one.
Imagine that.
The drunk in the tenement stoop
has no razor
but he has all the quintessence
he will ever need.
A young couple in the park kiss.
Lips engage but so do souls
But what does one look like?
Stars perhaps.
How about that Renoir painting
of young rose-fleshed women bathing.
Is it incandescent like organ notes?
Or deep as bassos?
I once knew a couple who
abandoned an unwanted puppy
by the side of the road.
A man found it and took it in.
Callousness and love . . .
and all the same puppy.

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