Sunday Morning Walk

A crow rips apart a smashed squirrel.

New graffiti on the hair salon window, something about vodka.

Shattered bricks on the sidewalk.

Record April showers have brought May flowers.

Upturned flowers in barkdusted beds.

Who pulls up flowers?

A woman sleeps in a sleeping bag near a real estate office.

I am about to pour my convenience store coffee and a homeless woman darts inside and cuts in front of me. She pours herself hot water and dashes out.

My mind meanders to my future.

My mind writes dialogue for a novel I might never write.

I admire massive deciduous trees.

Dogs bark.

Chickens cackle.

I arrive at the ATM. A sign says it doesn’t work because of vandalism.

The big news in the neighborhood. The farmer’s market finally found a new home! Right next to the homeless encampment!

I’ll be there, of course.