An encounter

As the early winter rain came down swiftly,

He wrapped the free end of his turban

Around his face, his wet bare chest:

Glistened red with cold.

His strong hands, coarse and dark

With dirt and grime.

They brushed past mine

Carefully manicured and Vaseline-d.

And his body reeked of the sweat he had shed

Earlier in the day.

And the odor of his labor, well, no amount of rain

Could wash it away.

His turban a dirty white, greased and soiled

But worn with pride.

His gaze uninspired, lifeless and vacant,

Tired by the toil and travail.

As he hopped off the slowing bus,

His cracked heels hit the wet dirt.

I saw the cold rain snaking down his spine,

And I shivered despite my woolens.

Linking up with : Ermiliablog: Picture it and Write

Linking up with : Write on Edge : Red Writing Hood Prompt - Rain (once it goes live)
Linking up with : Write on Edge : Weekend Linkup