Thomas - 2 Poem by Windsor Guadalupe Jr

Thomas was a man
Who sauntered under the Sun
And he wore his shades
Of ebony tint
And he never squinted -
He wore his shades so the people
Would not see the squalor in his eyes.

Thomas rode the bus
That rummaged across a trifle morose,
And he still wore his shades
Of ebony plague.
And he never made any sound,
As he slept behind his shades -
The people never noticed that he was asleep.

Thomas got down from the bus,
That was as still as a pavement,
And he still wore his shades
Of ebony malady.
He trampled lightly across the cigarette vendor,
But he never smoked cigarettes.
He only listened to Foster The People
And he felt good about it.

Thomas entered the mall,
That was as vacuous as his face
As the mirrors around him conspired to conjure
A broken image of himself - tired, exhausted and wearisome.
And he still wore his shades
Of despaired ebony.
He entered a furniture shop,
And watched the happy, twined people come and go,
And the people never noticed,
How desolate he was behind the shades.

Thomas sat down a cushion seat,
In front of the mats as he was trying to pick
A mat that would be in favor of his father’s taste.
He removed his shades, his eyes bloodshot.
With no cigarette in hand, only faith and lost time.
He did not wear his shades
Of anguished ebony.
And now, the people noticed
How vulnerable he was.