Thursday Night Farmers Market

I haven’t tried my hand at poetry for many years (haiku games don’t seem to count). But I was in San Luis Obispo on a recent Thursday night and found myself smack dab in the middle of a thriving farmers market. Writing a post with photos and description seemed like it would fall short. A poem seemed more appropriate.

“What’cha havin?”

BBQ smoke, people lined up, the call cutting through the crowd

“Beef rib and garlic bread”

Pull a couple of feet of paper towel and find a spot on the curb

“Hey boy, you need a shine on those shoes”

“It depends on who you ask” says the bag lady in passing

The sax player sneaks a beer out of his case before starting his set

Homeless guy drums his own tune on the concrete, eyes closed to the world

Strawberry ice cream in a cake cone, covering tart frozen berries

The homeless guy still drumming on the return trip

Off the sidewalk to find a beer 

only to discover a barstool in front of a basketball game

An old guy sits,

Carefully arranges a cushion with birdlike hands,

Then watches the game, intent, while delicately dissecting his burger

Exit the bar and find the perfect peanut butter cookie,

That I pick apart on the way home


It’s rough, but there it is.

Take care, and forget the orange monster for awhile. Pet your dog, greet your family with a kiss and a hug. Smile at strangers and enjoy your beer.


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