A Sunny Day.

Our street is dead end and a side street of a larger one.
The large road is closeby my home.
It's always busy there.
Much traffic and many stores.
Shops where things have no price tag.
Then you know enough.
And you walk by.
The people in this busy street talk differently.

Today is a sunny day.
I got up late but am early for groceries.
Because tonight it's yoga class.
I can not buy much.
But always fruits and vegetables.
Usually I'm back home soon.

It's a hot day.
People on the sidewalk; some of them have a chat while they're waiting.
They almost never smile.
They're worried.
Here they're concerned about losing what they have,
while elsewhere people are hesitant to buy something.

Opposite the supermarket is a bookstore.
There is a table outside: 'Sale'.
A homeless man sits under a tree on the sidewalk.
He is eating a sandwich.
Between the books is a title that I do not remember.
It was about an American from Des Moines who has traveled through 48 states and went back home.
The book wasn't expensive but I left it on the table.

There was a little green box next to the homeless man.
With a 5 cents coin in it.
He had eaten the sandwich.
His backpack was used as the bin.

What he looked like ?
What can I say?
He looks like a homeless wanderer.
A worn face, though he will still be a young man.
He has long dark curly hair.
I know him.
I've seen him before.

'The box is still empty. Here you are'.
'Kindly' he says.
We shake hands.
He says he comes from Spain.
I wish him 'Buenos diaz'.

I'm home.
Fifty meters from the bookstore.
Home. And alone too.
A single smile.
I need a job.
Then I could go to Spain.
Or maybe to Des Moines.