Saint Francis is
modest,
low-storied, quiet.
Yesterday
Tony and I went to Dreschkas,
a dimly lit department store,
half asleep
and open erratically.
We parked and as we walked
in the furious hail and rain,
so cold for April,
a small ginger terrier ran past us into the street and was nearly hit.
Calling she came to me,
scooped her into my arms,
(she shivered so)
took her to the "Paws" groomer.
A large tattooed blonde
expertly gauged her puppy age
cooed and fed her a treat.
Mrs. Dreschka thanked us
for caring for the dog as she closed the store
("come another time")
because of the awful weather.
Later a heavy young woman
stunned by cold or heart or drugs
claimed our castaway
took her home
under an arm
one slow shuffling step after another.
(last I saw
her ginger tail
fiercely
hopefully
wagging)
