The World At Bay

A busy intersection

Fingers thrumming on the steering wheel

Looking left

Looking right

Waiting for a gap

Ready to spurt

Toward an appointment

Peripheral, to the left

There he is

At the curb

Stepping into the street

With his dog

On a limp rope leash

He squares his shoulders

Through a fatigue jacket

Soiled and heavy

Grins

Whiskered and creased

And then pauses

In the middle

Of the traffic lanes

Slowly

Deliberately

Calculated to a rhythm

Of his own orchestration

As if

He has done this before

He cocks his head toward the sun

Squints and adjusts his tattered cap

Looks back at the dog

Gives a little tug on the rope

Shifts his bulging sleep roll

And moves on

Into the heart

Of impatient merging quadrants:

A coffee date

Bus schedules

A court hearing

Soccer practice

Restaurant supply deliveries

 All waiting

Eyes rolling

Horn honking

Fist pumping

As he

Strolls

Savors his moment

Holding the world at bay