How You Carry It

I stopped on the sidewalk because I didn't know

who that was at first — the forward lean,

the neck already leading the body

somewhere the rest of it hadn't agreed to go.

The pharmacy bag hanging off one hand

like a plumb bob finding level.

The person behind me stepped around without a word.

That's how long I stood there.

I've been bracing for something, I think.

For years, maybe.

I just didn't know it showed,

didn't know the whole weight of it

was readable in the glass

for anyone walking east at seven

to see and step around

and not say anything about.