Somehow the ostentatious
vagrant
weaving toward me seems—almost
impossible
to actually notice—wearing every
thing he owns, I see
him plainly
but also—barely! Just
clothing zig-
zagging diagonal down
the sidewalk
squares through a stone-
faced crowd
in the furtive
mist of not-yet-
late October—moving
not exactly lickadee-
split and
not exactly
carefully either, but just
forgetfully-
quickly enough
past a host of eyes side-
glancing and trained to
disregard—not only
those items
doing the careening—but any
motion that repeats
its pattern.