This guy, big bushy beard
and a dirty A's cap,
spreads a box of french fries
on the sidewalk on Front Street.
Stirs and stares at them
like some kind of divination,
the one where a shaman
tosses sticks and reads the pattern.
Chuckles softly and chooses one.
Pops it in his mouth.
Some crumbs trickle down
and stick in his beard.
A neatly dressed, middled aged
African American man
with dignified, upright posture,
pushs a wheeled wire cart
packed with his possessions
down the street.
A boom box in his cart
broadcasts a big marching band
version of My Country 'tis of Thee
followed by the Star Spangled Banner.
Three office hipsters stroll side by side
stepping around the french fry guy.
Talking about bosses and boyfriends
and trying to decide where to go
for happy hour drinks.
The sidewalk french fry shaman
points a limp fry at the hipsters,
laughs and says,
how bout buying one for me?
A family of tourists,
dressed for last week's weather
and looking lost,
peer at maps and apps.
Dad points left, Mom points right,
the girl peeks at the french fries,
the boy stares at his feet.
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