The Return of the Native

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Rain shafts riddling the night as I pace the long
Path of sodden leaves and slush, traffic splashing
Up a spume of dirty water on Henry,
Street (not) named after a bald, brain-challenged boy
Who hikes boldly through the deafening downpour
Out of a blurred, soggy past, becoming me,
Becoming enfeebled, leaning on a cane.

Miwoks ground acorns in holes in these rocks.
Wet night gives way to sodden, endarkened
Dawning: a new ancient day, already aged,
Encroaches: dead light, leaving liquid shades
To reign. Indigenes once trudged this spot
Where the native returns now to speechless state,
In sturdy muteness, crouched, stooping in the rain.

The cartoonist never gave Henry a mouth.

Henry: comic strip by Carl Anderson, 1935
Betty Boop with Henry: film poster, 1935