The old man with the wide nose covered in hard red warts oversized and awkward
blind with thick rimmed glasses yet talking quietly shuffling while pushing an empty wheelchair
there's suddenly water all over the floor at Jewel
right by the flower section
I stand in line at the bank teller, artfully placing a cup of delicate, delicious, expensive
espresso in my hoodie pocket
daring myself to place it, with the lid, in my pocket, upright
while I do my transaction
As I wait in line
the man brushes me
The man with the wide nose covered in hard red warts oversized and awkward
blind with thick rimmed glasses yet talking quietly shuffling while pushing an empty wheelchair
and I look and see he has oranges under his chair
a bag of oranges surely
and I step aside so he can get by
I catch myself acting like he is a leper
but I steady myself as I hold no ill will
I just didn't want to be touched by a passerby
and of course I then see
that the oranges are not oranges
they are orange roses, and a black plastic container full of three bouquets of orange roses
is being dragged under his wheelchair as he pushes it along
rather pitifully at this point, slowly
I look back at the floral section and it all makes sense
He didn't see that he had tipped over the black plastic vase of bouquets
and that is why there is water all over the floor
and why he's moving slowly
as he pushes his wheelchair along
with the orange booty underneath
Against my better judgement I stop to help
He had moved aside and I say sir, you have something caught under your chair
and I bend down to help
the saint that I am, and awkwardly pull out the flower tub
and in the process I spilled my delicate, delicious, expensive espresso
in the cute cup with the plastic top
and I go back to the floral section, with the orange roses and place them there
Look at the checks I was going to desposit
Important money, rent money
and I see the coffee stain spreading on the biggest check.
I sigh and deposit the checks.
The teller takes them despite the coffee.
God bless him.
I go outside and I see some poor sap, a woman, not unlike me,
has taken it upon herself to escort the man to Clark Street
but they are at the gates of the store
standing in the hot sun
on the wide black asphalt parking lot
kind of like the middle of nowhere
the middle of time
and he's wasting her time
she's trying to be patient and kind
asking if he needs to get to Clark Street
but he doesn't really need to be anywhere
and she probably does
and I feel sorry for her
because in her I see myself.