Keen sandals for five bucks at the hospice shop,

what a deal, so strip off those sweaty socks

and on they go and off you go into town, past

 

buddy napping under the bridge, second buddy

asking: you OK? hand-written signs asking

for anything really, a safe place to sleep, cheap

 

eats, sidewalk chalk art illustrates, illuminates,

a couple holding hands and you step on the hands,

step through a line for chocolate pudding ice cream

 

in a fancy waffle cone, through a big brass band

that’s got the town hall surrounded, punk kids

at the church handing out squares of party-sized

 

pizza, it’s a party, a main street gallery, a back

alley find, someone’s fantasy in cross-hatch,

a snowy owl from the point of view of the vole.