Gray Tuesday
Gray Tuesday afternoon
at the piano bench
working out changes
Outside the window
my white dog, Zoey
curls up in a brick planter box
separating the sidewalk
from the storefront patio.
I see her through a six-inch gap
in the wooden louvre shades.
Zoey has a visitor;
a young woman,
top layer of her hair drawn into a pony tail
tied with a white ribbon,
heavy make-up,
knee length overcoat,
tattered pantlegs,
late 20’s, looks normal at first glance.
But I’ve seen her before,
at far ends of the county,
walking.
She talks intently to Zoey,
Zoey makes her laugh.
Reaching into her bag,
she feeds Zoey bits of something;
looks like bread.
I hope it’s bread.
I let it slide.
She looks up.
I duck aside.
A solid stream of cars behind her
blends into the background.
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