A pleasant seat of a sidewalk cafe Over mocha coffee and a crème brulee Amidst genteel ladies and white tablecloths And, unobstructed, a view across An elm studded park with closely mown grass Nestled between urban concrete and glass - Serenity in a turbulent sea. Why then would young mothers draw their children near, Not for cuddling but with presence of fear? He shuffled up the walk with seemingly no mind Of those around who avoided a sign That would draw his attention and likely request For money. (In order to lessen the chance, Avoiding eye contact works the best). The Downtown Salvation Mission Retreat Serves those of his ilk just down the street. By day their throngs disperse like flies In summer heat to shadows and shade And reappear as evening tides Pull them as cattle to trough, Obliged to give their souls in trade With prayer for another meal. Between stocking cap and jacket collar His face stained brown from dirt on dirt And deep lined crevices dark from squalor Gouged by wind and cold, He fumbled at his pocket for a lone cigarette, Fingers shaking with the paper matchbook, Searching which end to strike, Oblivious to the time he took - A minute ordeal for a ten second task. And quivering lips sunken from too few teeth Sucked as discreetly as obvious would allow From a brown paper bag, the poor man's flask. Judge him and judge him harshly, Whatever loves he might have known Lie squandered in another life Through no fault but his own, And dread from fear of tomorrow And sorrow over times long now gone Extend no further than this hour. He paused, unaware the blight he posed obstructing the tranquil view of those who sipped mocha coffee over white tablecloths and spoke of coming weather. rlkilgore |