Suddenly
on the first day of
spring—come many
pale skinny kids rubbing
out their dark eyes and
blinking—then
streaming through
crosswalk-winnowed city blocks
in thin clothes and
singing—no particular popular
song to keep rhythm;
and already—not one of them thinking
about winter, or
traffic, or
even remembering
anything significant
regarding what
happened last
night, for that matter—as they
advance toward their
ultimate destination—those lusciously verdant
cocktails
at those open-
air tables—along the way
intermittently pausing
to praise and toss-
out pretty flowers
plucked earlier
from the un-
kempt sidewalk-
sale out in
front of the Jewel-Osco.
