2. Gabriel

Crazy May
Makes her way
Through a world
Of concrete gray.

With a weary heart
And a rickety cart
From the parking lot of
A forgotten Walmart.

She winds around her endless block,
Eyes trained on the rain-slicked sidewalk,
And in the gutter's dark ravine,
She spots a flash of sodden green.
A disintegrating dollar bill,
Draped across a storm drain's grille.
Veined, crepe paper hands reach down,
To pluck the treasure from the ground.

She stands up straight
And contemplates
What to do with
This upturn of fate.

She wants to buy
A frank and fries,
But her tumorous stomach
won't comply.

Her hungry eyes gaze 'round the street,
In search of something she can eat.
They flick past bars and coffee shops,
And land on a boy at the corner bus stop.
He sits on a bench, his eyes like gray stones,
Hood up, spirits down, completely alone.
May thinks as she stares at the cash in her hand,
Then crosses the street to a small ice cream stand.

She buys a drip
Of chocolate chip,
Leaving behind
A two cent tip.

She recrosses the street
With tired feet
And with garbled words
Proffers her treat.

The boy looks up with his eyes of dull stone,
And stares in surprise at the dribbling cone.
He tries to turn it down at first,
But eventually he is coerced.
May sits down beside him with eyes agleam,
And watches the boy lap up the ice cream.
He finishes up and thanks May graciously,
As a bus hisses up, brakes squealing like banshees.

Crazy May
Looks on in dismay
As the grumbling bus
Bears the boy away.

But as he goes,
He looks back and throws
The warm beam of a smile,
Through the rain-dappled window.

They say money can't buy happiness,
And there's truth to what they say,
But a one dollar bill sure warmed two hearts
On that gray and drizzly day.

The End

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