Paul stands alone
in the crowded town square.
Market day and he
just stepped off the bus
duffel bag in hand
a blue kepi on his head.
Pendleton wool jacket
over blue jeans, over boots.
New town. New Job.
New friends to be made.
A tarot reader insists on
an eight hour minimum wage day
to hint at fortune
and future.
Paul notes the market’s attendants
from bejeweled upper class
to grimy huddles
of the homeless.
A girl smokes a cigarette.
It clouds her beauty.
A Christmas tree blinks
adjacent to a gazebo
where a mariachi band
plays Christian holiday standards.
He types an address
into his smart phone—
two point three mile walk
to an empty apartment
and, being Sunday,
no heat or electric
until tomorrow
after his first day on the job.
copyright © 2021 Kenneth P. Gurney
Umflop 