There was a gentleman
He was sitting on a park bench
not too far from the edge of the
busiest road in the whole city.
The sun was low in the evening
sky and there were vagrants near,
if I recall correctly, scratching for change
and drinking out of little brown bags.
There was a wind that picked up
and it pushed on everybody, tugging
on hair and clothes and bags and
everything, even if it was just a little bit.
Suddenly, that man’s hat was plucked
right from his crown, and in the flash of
an instant, the wind had carried it under
the uncaring tread of a passing car,
flattening it to the brim.
There was a sigh
and the man stood from his park bench,
ignoring the vagrants and turning away
from the red-orange bulb hovering just
above the buildingtops.
He started walking then, perhaps
towards his home, or perhaps to purchase
a new cap.
At least it didn’t rain that night.