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City Lunch

A Spring noon in San Francisco.  A break from the cubicle to grab a bite and enjoy some air.  Perched on a step by a small square, hotdog in hand and the best free show in town.

City Lunch

Pigeons, with single-minded zeal, insist
I share the scraps of my unfinished lunch.

Diners in I-pod headsets turn inward
avoiding unwelcome interactions.

A little man, twisted and bent, hobbles
down the dirty street, a fierce cat perches
on his backpack glaring at all comers.

And, through it all, as if on stage, the woman
in the silly boots parades and shakes
her meager ass as though somebody cared.


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