like the breath
of a lover
on a cold winter’s morn
steam rises
from his latte
he reads
the highlight section
of the wall street journal
trying to glean
which articles
to
really read
looking up
from time to time
to watch
the ornately decorated
high school students
approach the bus stop
more asleep
than awake
he recalls
the dress code
he and his friends
had to endure
wondering if
there were
rules
at all these days
but
then
one student
catches his eye
a young woman
carrying a child
with a strong scent
of baby powder
instead of
the heavy perfumes
of her classmates
a child
with
a child
he pauses
before his next
sip
thinks about
pseudo-religious
bible thumpers
wolves clothed
in the lamb’s skin
stares at her
and
her child
and then
reads through
the tear-stained
lines
of the journal
Read Between the Minds 