Robert L. Dean, Jr.
Robert L. Dean, Jr. is the author of Pulp (Finishing Line Press, 2022); The Aerialist Will not be Performing: ekphrastic poems and short fictions to the art of Steven Schroeder (Turning Plow Press, 2020); At the Lake with Heisenberg (Spartan Press, 2018); and the forthcoming Ekphrastic collaboration with Jason Baldinger titled “The Night Window.” A multiple Pushcart and Best of the Net nominee, his work has appeared in many literary journals. Dean has been a professional musician and worked at The Dallas Morning News. He is a member of The Writers Place and Kansas Authors Club. He lives in Kansas.
Pickpocket
Down the boulevard he glides, eyes shifting
here, there. Not as easy as it used to be.
No unbuttoned suit coat jackets. No loose
lapels, bulging pants pockets, oversize handbags
gaping. Slim, slick cell phones now, apps,
tap and pay. Nothing he can really get a grip on.
Till he sees you.
Wearing your heart, your emotions, your life
on your sleeve. He flexes two fingers, shakes off
decades of rust, jostles you slightly.
As if by accident.
As if simply time, passing.
And when you no longer remember
where you are going, you search yourself.
Hands fumbling
over shirt, jeans. Searching for
the who of you. The what of you.
That night or day or morning
when you told someone
you loved them.
That little boy face
a dog licked.
Or was it a cat, a hand?
Was it even you? What did the sky look like
when school let out for summer? Fifth grade, fourth grade,
sixth. What did it look like yesterday? This morning? You look up.
You see nothing. You feel neither joy nor sadness. Just
a lack. An absence. From a pawn shop window
your face stares back. Or what you seem to remember
as your face. Spread out around you,
your life.
Or a semblance thereof.
All for just two dollars.
And even that
slips away down the boulevard.
