In the drizzly lunch hour,
i spill don't-get-lost crumbs
on the streets as i curl
and curve away from
yet another public school.
I am in pursuit of a meal,
a noontime challenge
that has me regretting
my lack of good planning,
with homemade snacks
and healthy grub.
A man stands in the parking
lot, opens a door to a truck
by mistake. Wonder if he
waits for a ride or a fix,
the connection to wealth
or a nod.
I wish he would ask me a
question, put me on the
spot with a quip. But
he just stands there,
waiting, without umbrella
or money or song.
copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez
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