sipping an iced brew succulent
as a summer cherry.
He comes from my
right, glaring at the movement of my eyes
as I notice shiny
Florsheim loafers standing out against his ragged bottom,
encrusted street-stained
jeans no longer blue.
Our eyes meet.
“Like what you see?” says
he sarcastically with a deepening scowl.
I bow - not to honor,
but to hide.
I watch as he comes,
moments later, from my left with a quickened pace.
Our eyes again meet.
He strides by, a
silent scowl intact
turning squarely, carrying
only his thoughts.
I bow - not to honor, but to hide.
Powerful image and poem, my friend. I do relate to the bow as I have done and do the same. I enjoyed and am enriched by our conversations at the coffee shop. I hope you have a good day!!
ReplyDeleteThank you, Monte. I was surprised by how the encounter traveled with me over a week's time.
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