He is there
on route 53
the man who sits
on his white plastic chair
He is dressed
in black
He has
a dusty black hat
the man who lives
in his white plastic chair
He is a watchman
He is a guard
He is a marker
He is a constant
He is an always
All seems right if he’s there
He is the man
who sees us
who marks each passing day
from his white plastic chair~