a simple question asked with monumental effort:
"Does this train stop at McDowell?"
Yes it does. Tense shoulders never relaxing,
embarrassment keen. We never have all the answers.
He had a grizzled smirk that was ten feet wide.
Sunshine brings out spaghetti-strap tanks
and makes shy men brave.
"Well, well, that's what I'm talkin' about!"
Hope I made his day.
She had a wispy mustache and a lost little smile.
She carried three bags filled with things, a lifetime of uncertainties.
Stopped me at the crosswalk:
"What do you think of the market? Do their vegetables taste good?"
We talked as the light changed once, then twice.
He perched on the stoop of a vacant office building,
noticing what I hadn't, as I braked for the light.
"Your bike tire's flat... gonna make it?"
No air pump, but genuine concern.
He stormed through the park, and saw
the girl on the bench, with iPod headphones and a book.
Her friendly but wary smile ripped the frustration loose.
"Get the fuck out of my face, you stupid-ass bitch."
He is a realist. A stranger's smile, no matter how polite,
won't improve his lot.
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