He was well shaven and wore a tie,
but his jacket was torn at both sleeves.
His gait was downright regal,
this lord of 3rd street in the early morning.
But then he saw it,
a throwaway sandwich wrapped in paper on a stoop.
He grabbed it and put it to his mouth.
But then he saw me,
and his hands squeezed the sandwich into mush.
We were eye to eye, we wandering translucent men.
I pretended not to notice, and he pretended I didn't see.
Then he ate the mush.
I'm well practiced in walking city streets
with selective blindness and deadpan eyes.