Everybody Has A Mother
He was the scruffiest guy.
An ambling pedestrian, holding me impatient prisoner
behind the broad yellow line of the crosswalk.
Unlaced athletic shoes large enough for a Big Foot,
drooping socks weeks away from the washer, pants
fashionably clinging to the bottom of his butt,
three sloppy layers of ripped tee, ripped shirt, intact
warm-up jacket.
One of the new wave that believes the nasty
chemicals in shampoo are bad for the hair. Maybe
good for the hair, but bad for this guy’s look.
And balanced carefully in one hand as though it were
a holy chalice, a super market arrangement of spring
flowers, anchoring a stick attached to a stiff
metallic balloon with the message:
Happy Mother’s Day.
Words fail.
WTF is that?
Tags: A sight to melt a cynic’s heart.
(For fifteen minutes, at least.)
love this. beyond. happy day to you, too!