Careful is a Sixth Sense

Careful is in the soul and fingers  
of the man alone, keener than eyesight,
hand hovers before touching anything:  
 
'Is this damp, slippery?'

Careful is that sense that magnifies  
the others, watching the ground ahead  
of footfalls, motion moderated,
 
avoiding the brisk and the risk,
he has the blind man's radar, the strands  
of hair on his arm feel what is near  
 
the towel rack is not a safety bar."

The man alone is rubber-soled
in the bathroom, both palms on the walls  
before reveling in the rain of the bath.
 
At night, his ear cocks at the sound
of every can kicked outside, like the dog's  
to a cat stealthy in the yard.
 
A man alone lives outside of earshot  
of care and anyone who might  
wonder why he is late for breakfast,
 
outside of earshot of worry
when he tarries in the toilet,
no one hears the grumble of hunger,  
 
He must lock the house up before
he brings out the vodka and sighs,
Careful is a sense of the man alone.