Secret shared

Outstreched-
All hands and back,
set rigidly in a downward pull.
Eyes closed, ears piqued.
Like this, I sometimes meditate.

Interrupted-
the clank of metal hitting concrete.
Change. A single coin:
quarter of a dollar is -dropped? -left?
-abandoned?
Intentionally placed before my face.

The meditative moment is gone.
This secret moment done.
Circumstancially circumvented.
And the streets are left bustling, busy
with not a single soul around.

I have a feeling this was the impression
I was meant to get.
An intentional, conflicted gesture.

Is this payment of some kind?
Expression of concern?
Appreciative donation?
Did you thik I was busking-
what, my body?
Perhaps, you only thought it would be funny.
Stirring.
Jarring.

It was.

So: thank you, stranger.
I suppose–

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