“Sometimes a small curb is
Mount Everest,” whimsy taking
hold. “Need a hand?”

“No, sir, I need a foot that works,
That does what I want it to. You
got one of those handy?” He smiles.

“You vote for Mr. Trump?” I ask
not intending to, but out it came.

“Yes, I did.

“And what do you think of him now?”

“I think he needs a brain that works.
I’ll be long gone before that happens.”

These unintended interactions on 
the street on my early morning
walks are breakfast for the soul