All hands and back,
set rigidly in a downward pull.
Eyes closed, ears piqued.
Like this, I sometimes meditate.
the clank of metal hitting concrete.
Change. A single coin:
quarter of a dollar is -dropped? -left?
Intentionally placed before my face.
The meditative moment is gone.
This secret moment done.
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?
Did you thik I was busking-
what, my body?
Perhaps, you only thought it would be funny.
So: thank you, stranger.