Shuffling through the crowds –
a sea of shorts and tank tops –
hot sun beating down on a packed Madison Avenue,
I tighten my grip on my sister's hand
and push through the mob.
From behind us stalks a young man,
trailing in back of him a cart.
He flips his head
to wipe unkempt hair out of his face.
Grubby, torn clothes
swallow a frail body.
He curses
as he drops the remnants of a sandwich
and, without a flinch, picks it up
and stuffs his mouth. I look away in disgust.
But as he passes us,
I spy books
scattered through his pile of belongings,
each with a tattered binding
or missing cover,
but every page well loved.
I watch him disappear into swarms of people,
embarrassed that with one look,
I knew everything.
I trudge on
through a sea of shorts and tank tops,
hot sun beating down on a packed Madison Avenue,
looking ahead
with new eyes.
