Feeding Rats on B Street
Dragged from sleep by
Queen Nic, feet hit the floor,
I’m up and out the door.
Gave too many cigs away
Ran out myself on Sunday.
Hit the ATM on Market.
Rooted pencils for a stub,
a little graphite nub
to mark the same numbers
rarely played since 1987.
They might roll someday,
maybe not,
never have yet.
Waste of buck
for no luck
Tossed down on a bet.
Hey Jack of Snacks,
hit me with some Blues
as I fix my brew.
Oh, mystery donuts?
Sweets obscured from view
gift wrapped in white paper.
I pick a clue:
“Cake, Icing, Coconut”
He hides my cigarettes
in brown paper.
I wait for a break
before crossing the street
and little city birds
land by my feet.
As if to say hello.
The courtyard is shaded
in a dark shadow flight
from Insanity Towers
in the cold morning light.
Torn bread and crumbs
are scattered on bricks
Sometimes I wonder
what makes people tick.
Day people don’t know
what goes on in moon light
when the rats come out
to feed in the night.
The birds do not eat
all the bread that they toss.
And they don’t eat pizza
or pasta with sauce.
They may pick at bones
and other things dropped
but come on people,
this must be stopped.
I head for the sunlight,
walk on up B Street
to a bench on the corner
to savor my treat.
On past Rat Wall
so named for a reason
as Hub rats run and jump
into landscape regions.
It is not safe to sit there
at night in all seasons.
So catty corner from
the Harshman building
where a bench offer rest
and traffic is yielding,
I unwrap the mystery,
a surprise to see
orange tinted coconut
on a iced white donut
of soft yellow cake.
I take a bite
and drop a flake.
I’m as guilty as the next
of feeding rats on B Street
even picking up my scraps
off bricks and concrete.
For it is the two legged kind
that try to feed off me
with a smile and a please
but too often too much
can make a warm heart freeze.
Hey Lady?
Got a dollar?
Can you spare a smoke?
Got fifteen cents?
Only need a nickel.
BYO
I’m out of cash.
And BTW
Pick up your trash.
©2015 Nancy Barnes
One down on E. Federal St. in DoYo
Serious folks, stop dropping edibles on our city streets and sidewalks when you come downtown to work or party as all you are doing is feeding the rats that roam after you all go home.
Poem reposted from my blogger blog; also available in print as a mini-chapbook.
Thanks for reading… N.
Barnbees 