September 7


The man lying in the bushes was not asleep. He was laughing.
He’d had a dream he said, of a pelican with a bow tie.
“I’d call him Reginald, if I were you. And I’d get yourself a bow tie.”
He answered: “Can’t say as I’ve ever seen one of my kind in a bow tie.”

The shirtless tatooted man was not laughing, but walking fast,
prodded by a security man shouting “keep walking!”
and poking shirtless in the back with stiffened fingers.
“He needs a pelican with a bow tie, ” I said as I walked past.

The poker’s partner stepped in front of me, stopping me.
“What’s your name, sir?” he asked, as if the habit itself was bored.
“Owl Man,” I said without delay, pointing to the owl on my tee.
“Let’s see your ID, sir!” “I don’t carry ID on my morning walk.”

“Why did you say that guy needed a pelican with a bow tie?”
“Because the homeless guy around the corner had a dream
of a pelican with a bow tie and he couldn’t stop laughting.
Everyone needs a dream or at least something to imagine on.”

“Well, Owl Man, your talk is crazy, but you do not seem crazy.”
“We are at an edge, Security Man. What are you going to do?”
“Look, I gotta help my partner deal with a situation. You can go.”
“Thank you. But don’t forget the pelican. Don’t forget the bow tie.”

My morning walks are for treating my balance problems.

But they offer so much more when I pay attention,

don’t divert my eyes, don’t fear saying unexpected things.