Ayrian youth right in front of my headlights.
Harkening back to those pictures,
those snapshots in black and white.
Trimmed and Proper.
Head shaved up the sides to
Blonde
Blonde tops.
A strong nose, the face of a handsome child.
When he walked
he strutted,
shoes flopping, the black soles heavy with history slapping the gray pavement.
I imagined, as I drove, cutting out his bright technicolor face,
(around the edges of his ears, of course)
then gluing that
Shining
Shining
Blonde hair to one of those black and white photographs.
Today I saw a Nazi.
