Lukeman Exercise, Part 3 | Rayla Gomez

I didn't see any exercises for Part 3, but I figured that maybe I should post a third exercise that includes most or all of the punctuation skills as needed in my writing. This is also my Draft #2.

*Although I like the dialogue and placements of certain punctuacted phrases, I found that there were a few punctuation marks I wanted to change.

Empty Pockets

He blinks into the sunlight and breathes in the new air,
Rusted soil clouds his feet,
Peppers the trousers that he took off a dead man.
It’s not stealing if he won’t come looking for them.
He stumbles along the road,
Stopping under a tree providing a thin, needle-like shadow
To shield his wasting body from the heated sun.
That reminds him to sew the small hole
In the pants where the last of his change
Slipped unnoticed and fell God knows where,
At least, when this place is out of sight.
He sighs, puts on the worn, patched hat that
Belonged to his father,
Reminding himself that he was rid of him too,
And treks out into the scorching summer heat again.
Despite his wretched circumstances,
He starts to whistle “Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby”.
Out of the dust comes an old, navy blue pickup truck,
And he falls silent, putting on a smile.
An old farmer is behind the wheel, and he says,
“You need a ride?”
His bloodshot eyes bore into the driver’s,
But he nods silently and climbs in.
“Hot day today. In fact, just saw a guy on the road.
Died in the heat, I think.”
He just nods to the farmer, whistling,
And fingers the hole where the change fell to the dust.

*Even though the changes are subtle, I think that each punctuation mark used in the revised version below helped impact how the words are read.

Empty Pockets

He blinks into the sunlight and breathes in the new air;
Rusted soil clouds his feet,
Peppers the trousers that he took off a dead man-
It’s not stealing if he won’t come looking for them.
He stumbles along the road,
Stopping under a tree providing a thin, needle-like shadow
To shield his wasting body from the heated sun.
That reminds him to sew the small hole
In the pants where the last of his change
Slipped unnoticed and fell God knows where;
At least, when this place is out of sight.
He sighs, puts on the worn patched hat that
Belonged to his father,
Reminding himself that he was rid of him too,
And treks out into the scorching summer heat again.
Despite his wretched circumstances,
He starts to whistle “Yes, Sir, That’s My Baby”.
Out of the dust comes an old navy blue pickup truck,
And he falls silent, putting on a smile.
An old farmer is behind the wheel, and he says,
“You need a ride?”
His bloodshot eyes bore into the driver’s,
But he nods silently and climbs in.
“Hot day today. In fact, just saw a guy on the road.
Died in the heat, I think.”
He just nods to the farmer, whistling,
And fingers the hole where the change fell to the dust.