Mustard Seed (Part 2)

And here we receive his hugs and groping grasps, We are here standing around, waiting – now used to the spectacle and we are ignoring him. Now a woman wearing scrubs and a flowered white shirt notices. She approaches the group and says to us: “Morning,” and to him: “Come on,” and she pulls his hand away and leads him to an adjacent building through a door made of bars with a wrinkled paper sign that reads “Please Keep Door Closed”. The yellow paint on the outer walls fades at the top in dripping cement streaks; the roof is topped by ominous weedy sticks of rebar, their placement apparently haphazard, their meaning and purpose obscured, crookedly pointing upward toward the clouded sky.