1
Walking towards the fitness centre,
It is so quiet.
I see a homeless man
Looking down at the sidewalk.
He bends over, picks up a coin,
Studies it, extends his hand, and places
The coin in a parking meter.
But there are no cars
Parked on the street.
2
I place my yoga mat
At the back of the room, hidden from the others,
Shy from my inexperience in the practice.
The class has already started
When a woman enters the room
And places her yoga mat beside me.
But it’s not really a yoga mat.
It’s a thick air mattress
That she blows up noisily.
She breathes heavily now,
Groaning with every yoga position.
I imagine she wants attention, but I give her none.
During one yoga movement,
When her head is turned away,
I study the woman.
Her left arm is covered in
Many, many bracelets,
Full from the wrist to the elbow.
Two rings on each finger and thumb of her left hand.
But on her right hand? Her right arm? Nothing.
No bracelets. No rings. How strange. Just nothing.
I think to ask her about it,
But the woman grunts in position
And I look away.
3
In the evening, my daughter visits.
I walk to the corner market and pass a homeless man,
Sifting through the garbage, happily singing.
We make eye contact
And he hustles towards me,
Aggressively trying to solicit two dollars.
I do not oblige him
And he follows me all the way to the market,
Repeatedly insisting on the two dollars.
In the market, my phone rings,
But I cannot answer it quickly enough
Before it goes to voicemail.
A blocked call. Probably my daughter
Wanting me to pick something up she needed.
I check my voice message.
But no. Not my daughter. It’s the homeless man.
He says I didn’t recognize him and that
I should have just given him the two dollars.
I sprint outside to locate the homeless man.
Sprint up and down the street, searching.
But he has melted into the darkness.
Who was he? An old military colleague?
Mentally injured from a deployment? Most likely.
I check all the names in my address book, but I’m just as befuddled.
4
The air is calm.
My daughter and I stand on my balcony,
Looking west at the approaching storm.
The sky is brilliant with flashes of lightning,
Getting brighter as the storm nears.
Then Mother Nature bellows her thunder.
The storm envelops us.
We feel puny, weak in its presence.
But strangely alive.
The storm passes,
Thunder becomes distant,
Then all is calm again.