WINDY WORDS poem

Windy Words

During a sidewalk stroll, my wife and
I approached a small apartment, where
a man with shirt-tail hanging,
beard not yet clipped and seeking
respite for his beleaguered eyes
stumbled across our path, said with a thick
tongue, “Mister, got some small change
for a coffee?” then searching with
puppy eyes sees a thrust of hand into
my pocket, not expecting a negative
response, “No, got none right now,” not
explaining it was my wife who carried the loot
and his calculating eye sent a signal to his
hand, whipped out a cigarette, then puffed smoke
in my direction. Not to be undone, I said in a
pleasant voice, “Coffee is more expensive
these days and small change just won’t do it.”
Then we fled with the wind, leaving shirttail
as a smudge in his man-made cloud.

© Richard L. Provencher
Website: www.wsprog.com/rp/