But for a walk

Today it is a Friday morning. 

it screams of joy to the business suit world, 

of summer love and restlessness, 

of the eventual night

of bar-hopping students,

fake ID glory,

and stiletto heels

right now it is still morning, a beautiful morning:

clean and warm, it welcomes the weekend;

I like it and how it dances on construction workers'

faces and their orange hats 

(you can see the sweat already

mixing with the cement and tape,

what a beautiful morning)

I sat on the bus, thought only of what

workday might bring and the banana I had packed,

slowly bruising in my bag (a testament to my mother,

who said I always carry too much)

I sat on the bus, saw something

no one else did:

a private tragedy walking the neighborhood streets

...they probably took that walk

because it is such a beautiful morning.

From city-bound wheels, I saw them walking

saw her, old lady white hair

and pastel pink pants

and him, old man white hair

and darkened sunglasses

and saw her 

crumple

into her walker

saw him

catch her

hold her

lower her to the asphalt

(and the walker was forgotten)

the bus drove on; 

it was only a matter of seconds, really,

that no one else saw

I wonder what happened - was it just a stumble...

when it looked more like a heart attack

I had seen so many times before

on the mindless TV...

it spins in my head now

- oldladycrumple,walkeraskew,oldmanholding

followoldladycrumple,walkeraskew,oldmanholding,

follow...and what thoughts

slammed through his brain,

a reckless train of red and blue lights flashing,

emergency gurney, stale hospital air...

and where were they going...

...but for a walk that turned into something greater

more terrifying

beneath the 9 am sun

(isn't it strange?)

old walker woman and sunglass man:

I'll never forget.

and I selfishly hope this isn't an inconvenient end

to something timeless,

unnoticed by Friday-frantic world...

where were you going?

and where are you now?