A homeless man,
Head shaved, except in the back.
The ultimate tonsure.
Kicked at a scrap of paper, fierce faced, teeth bared.
Missed, and did a perfect pirouette.
I walked to my car,
Starbucks iced mocha in my hand.
Three dollars sixty I paid.
I wondered who was the one really insane,
Me, or the guy fighting paper scraps.
Police on the side of the road.
Lights flashing behind an old truck.
One cop dug in the bed,
The other stood idly over a man,
With arms akimbo and leaning on one leg.
The man was prostrate on the ground.
He held one arm over his face,
As if to protect it.
Was the man drunk or had the cop beaten him?
I wished my camera had been ready to take a shot.