Misfits
Downtown Manhattan,
People milling on the streets,
Bumping into each other,
Briefly stopping at the light signals,
Then continuing their fast walk,
Not even glancing at each other, preoccupied
All ages, all colors, but mostly
Young, strong, fashionable people, hurrying to and fro their jobs,
Their apartments, shops, fast food restaurants,
Among them, an old, like from another era, lady
With her shopping bags full,
In Manhattan for a day of shopping,
Her wallet stolen, at the last shop perhaps,
Hungry, ready to take the train back home,
She scoured her pockets for change, and went
Into the first restaurant to buy a salad
That will hold her until she gets home, she thought.
As she finally sits down at the table, fork in hand,
A black, homeless, huge guy, seat next to her,
At the same table, and started gobbling her salad
“He must be even hungrier than me” she told herself
“I’ll just reach over and pick some of the salad myself”
Then, the unthinkable happened,
The rough looking guy walked over the counter
And brought back two steaming cups of coffee,
One for him and one for her
“She can use some hot coffee,
In this cold weather,” she thought
“We are both some kind of misfits,” she thought
Looking more kindly toward the huge guy sited next to her.
REA-SILVIA COSTIN, P.E.. 2010
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