The Red Man

The red man comes when you’re walking
down the cereal aisle on a Tuesday morning
wondering whether you have any porridge

or when a football flies into the top corner
and hotdogs and beers are lifted like trophies.
The red man comes when Barbara Streisand sings.

The red man comes when you see
a fluorescent running vest in a charity shop
or when a boat is strangled to shore

or when freckles grow on your son’s cheeks
or a guitar enters the room or a pen breaks
or a Labrador runs or you hear the word Scotland.

The red man comes.
He comes with no face, just a canvas
to pin on any eyes you remember.