You went downtown into Madison

 

 

 

 

You went downtown into Madison. 

The sun was out and it was spring.

 Like  a tourist you looked

with your mouth open.

 

The young, the old, the families,

the hobos and Jobs, the mix of ethnic blood,

all strolling on a Sunday together. 

 

The smell of rotten things defrosting,

 popcorn and coffee,

shit and soap and barley made

your nose bleed and throat sore.  

 

A fat man, with a white t-shirt

stained and too small, played the saxophone

in three note intervals  -one two three repeatedly he

played for tips or free

 

A young man dressed as skater played

the banjo with picks and slides on his fingers

and up from music he looked  you in the eyes

and you both were silent

strangers aware of each other’s need. 

You gave him a dollar and he played louder

 

  A man in a leather jacket walked and sang,

you stopped and listened to him pass,

so soft and pure his voice was

you prayed for the universe

on his behalf

 

The people in their blue jeans and dyed hair

jostled and joked, walked on,  alive

with sweatshirts and stocking caps. 

these people,  so loud, so self-aware

in their conversation games and their destination,

did not see the shadows of buildings and people mix,

did not see the homeless beg, and the hand drop

did not see the lady in fur or the ragged hippy

 chick with twigs in her hair

 or the running young woman dressed in red,

with thick thighs and a slow bouncing chin. 

 

The people didn’t notice the puke or hunger or the dead

walking or the strange and old isolation of the many

but noticed the sun was out and it was spring

like kids, smiling together in the mud puddle –relieved

to be rid of boots