She is thin.
She is in pink.
She is black.
She walks through the Philadelphia train station.
African queen?
Model?
Diplomat?
Writer?
Singer?
No, a drifting homeless,
Dodging the station cops.
Got to move.
Got to move.
I buy a bread.
I turn.
She is at a table, near the cops, a break for all.
I walk away with the bread.
Then, I turn around and move towards her.
She is reading a discarded newspaper.
I ask her if she wants some bread.
I pass it to her.
I tell her, “Break it! Give me half back!”
Yes, her dirty hands, scabbed.
And I am, momentarily, with her,
Her hands.
“Thanks. And when I get some money
I’ll buy you half a bread, too.”
“Thanks, nice offer, but I have a
Train to catch, so bye.”
I walk away, and look back.
She is biting into the bread,
White bread, dark hands,
Some crumbs to the newspaper.
I bite into my half,
A deep bite,
I continue with her ….
The cops are also reading.
They’ll move her along soon,
Lady in pink ….
Eugene “Gene” Novogrdsky late September 2011
arriba unidad/abajo divisiones – awip – no wall/no war – peace
