hector rode by
even the dogs on 7th street
wore bandages.
one man slept peacefully
on the sidewalk,
his head resting on the stoop,
his swollen hands folded
in hopeless prayer.
i gave a dollar
to a guy
with sweet eyes
who spoke to me
in seven languages,
none of them English
or Spanish
he wore a pistachio
shirt and brown
pants, a battered
ice cream cone
hector rode by
on a bicycle
draped in rosary beads
the rose garden
was locked
conga beats
and sofrito
drifted down
from the park
the sleeping man
rolled off the stoop
his friends
stepped over him,
gracefully
an unfiltered
cigarette
hung from his ear
Puma Perl
New York, NY
American Red Cross
