Geary Boulevard
looks like a broken mirror
in the shattered light
of the morning after
the storm.
A basset hound-eyed
old woman sits
cross-legged
on the sidewalk
between Kaiser Hospital
and the Sinai Memorial Chapel
with a halo of Newport butts
snuffed out around her.
A delivery man steps past her
with a wreath of white roses,
lilies, and carnations
not quite scentfull yet
in the chilly morning
and knocks on
the service entrance
door of the chapel.
A long-legged blond
with cover girl hair and makeup
strides across Geary
carefully inspecting
her nails.
The riders waiting for the 38
peer at their phones
with all the dedication
of the navel gazers
and Nintendo Gameboy
players of yore.
Sitting on the bricks
of Market leaning
against the glass front
of a Citibank branch,
A man holds out a Starbucks
grande cup with a dollar bill
peeking up over the lip.
I save my three bucks
for my familiar wheelchair
old lady on the corner
of Battery and Sacramento.
Just a smile this morning
no need for conversation.
