a bum and a trust-fund baby exchange brief eye-contact

sitting on the ground
next to an empty Dunkin cup
and his guitar.
his pants used to be black.
they’re grey now.
snowflakes gnash through the holes
up and down his legs.
black Carhartt, with more holes.
hard, shiny face.
blond hair, matted.
Spare a buck?
I need to buy some weed.

crimson crew neck
underneath the umbrella.
bean boots walk right by;
soft cheeks and fuzzy stubble are
engrossed in a meaningful Android.
no answer.
no acknowledgement.
no buck.

Hey your boot’s untied, dude.

it’s true.
pause, then eyes turn to him.
seeing, but not understanding.
the bean boot gets tied.
then walks away.

Have a nice day!
the snowflakes still fall.