Panhandler with Cat
Posted: 30 Aug 2018, 09:46
Panhandler with Cat
Every morning during rush hour
he's there with a cardboard sign,
whose lettering is illegible.
He doesn't need the sign:
he wears a gray and white striped tabby
on his left shoulder.
A window rolls down, a bill offered.
Sometimes the driver's rewarded
as the panhandler dips
his shoulder, proffering
a round head to be scratched,
and then the light changes,
and he walks back up towards
the intersection, the cat
pawing his shirt pocket.
What do they do once the traffic
thins out? Wander the fish
markets along the river?
Sample the scents of flower stalls?
Heads in the clouds,
do they nap in the park,
the sunlight warming to them
as we have?
Maybes there is something to be said
for a life like theirs, one
that is never as empty
as one's pockets, where loyalties
last longer than an idling
engine at an intersection,
where your loved one never
judges you harshly, especially
when she is nodding asleep,
her paws stretched across
your warm heart.
Every morning during rush hour
he's there with a cardboard sign,
whose lettering is illegible.
He doesn't need the sign:
he wears a gray and white striped tabby
on his left shoulder.
A window rolls down, a bill offered.
Sometimes the driver's rewarded
as the panhandler dips
his shoulder, proffering
a round head to be scratched,
and then the light changes,
and he walks back up towards
the intersection, the cat
pawing his shirt pocket.
What do they do once the traffic
thins out? Wander the fish
markets along the river?
Sample the scents of flower stalls?
Heads in the clouds,
do they nap in the park,
the sunlight warming to them
as we have?
Maybes there is something to be said
for a life like theirs, one
that is never as empty
as one's pockets, where loyalties
last longer than an idling
engine at an intersection,
where your loved one never
judges you harshly, especially
when she is nodding asleep,
her paws stretched across
your warm heart.