Paths

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.