Morning Walk

The first thing after breakfast
he walks downtown for a paper
past the grocery clerk with bananas
on his shoulder, past the banker
parked in the shade, past the minister
busy with his flowerbed, past a woman,
bare-legged, bent over her shoelace.
He tears a smile in two and leaves her
half, but his steps never stutter as they
speak out, one-two, they repeat one-two
one-two against concrete indifference.
His feet keep their rhythm over curbs,
across alleys, over gravel-lined driveways.
One-two, one-two they say plainly.
In step with his determination he walks
through sunlight, under tree shade,
against the flicker of cloud shadows,
he walks into traffic unmoved by horns
bawling Me First, he walks in scallops
of motion, through billows of grass,
in wing dip, leaf sway, water over stones,
he walks alone and turns aside for
fifteen cents’ worth of news at the post office.