Erin

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Sunday, May 15, 2016

City of Hope a poem


City streets
Cigarette butts
 
Neighbors who are uncouth and-
   Think you are, too, in their own set of rules

You walk the dog on a grey Sunday

And reclining in the entry of a closed boutique, smoking, wrapped in his navy blue sleeping bag,
One of the most beautiful homeless men you've ever seen
He reminds you of an old lover
A Hawaiian shell necklace
A nonchalance
A head of hair like the tapestry of Psyche and Eros at the Met in New York
 
You wonder if he, too plays the piano
And if he, too, loves choral music and would sleep in on a Sunday and then Stroll hand in hand to a farmer's Market to smell the soaps and taste the berries as the blue sky opens up with rain

Probably not

But maybe

How lucky you have been

And beauty is evident everywhere
Amidst the trash and clutter of an unfeeling city,
Oh, so full of feelings,
A city of hope