Squat, unshaven, full of gas,
Joseph Samuels, former clerk
in four large cities, out of work,
waits in the darkened underpass.
In sanctuary, out of reach,
he stares at the fading light outside:
the rain beginning: hears the tide
that drums along the empty beach.
When drops first fell at six o'clock,
the bathers left. The last car's gone.
Sun's final rays reflect upon
the streaking rain, the rambling dock.
He takes an object from his coat
and holds it tightly in his hand
(eyes on the stretch of endless sand).
And then, in darkness, cuts his throat.
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Grisly! I did not see that coming. He seems to make this man represent more than himself--the unemployed, washed up person everywhere (my first clue would be the four cities part). Neat how he calls all these people one, tells the tale from one perspective which blankets all of them. Or, then again, I could be wrong (it wouldn't be the first time) and he is talking about one person. Anyhow, the first word that I used is the one I think that sums it up--grisly!!
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