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Sunday's river
flows easy,
buses nudge the bank and drift
on,
bicycles weave the current
like trout.
On
the museum steps children slip
through
the crowd waiting for doors
to
open at noon. A boy pauses
to
watch a black -coated man stagger
pulled
by an unseen leash,
an
invisible dog. Couples
draw
back appearing unconcerned, a girl
smiles,
the man bows to her, then
spreads
his hands wide and silver
balls
lift in an arc high
over
his head. Faces pivot,
concentric
rings of laughter
riffle
the surface, an island
spreads
from his feet. Look,
he
signals, shoals are not firm,
you
cannot walk steady here
the
river's bed is unquiet as dreams.
A
passer-by holds his course straight
with
the rudder of his briefcase.
The
mime points, shrugs. We laugh
but
shift our feet to be sure we
are
grounded on ascending marble
stairs.
bv
Ann R. Knox
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