The Gamble

He sings for his supper
Sometimes settling for the scraps
From table number twenty-nine

It is enough to sustain him tonight

She does not mind his presence
And her patrons seem to take
Delight in his rendering of the blues

Truth be told, it settles her nerves

The line between charity
And curiosity blurs as she
Studies his post-performance feast

His manners are impeccable

A genial exchange of pleasantries
And a reverent nod precede his
Departure into the back alley

Secretly she wonders where he will go

Pain ebbs up through his heel as
He makes his way to the shelter
Five blocks east in the biting November wind

Maybe his shoes will endure another week

Forgetting to dim the dining room lights
She eases her coupe into first gear
Before her thoughts can align with reason

The traffic signal has never been slower

At the intersection of Benton and 8th
She recognizes his oversized burgundy coat
And a soulful verse from tonight’s recital

The name of the tune eludes her

His gaze is as uncertain
As her steps are unsteady
It is a chance they both accept

Words are humbled by fascination

Copyright 2017 Tina Jordan, All Rights Reserved

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