En Garde
He waits, he pounces
like a kitten, serious, fierce,
comic. He explains
my explanation.
This is what they do.
One man runs for a bus & a woman plays
a small accordion on the corner.
Someone calls her by name
but she is dreaming in melody
drowning in tomorrows.
We have enough
to float us to the end.
Death is as competent as a pigeon:
one task.
That's all they have
to watch out for.