Sunday Morning Sidewalk

It’s God’s day off and mine too.
There are tents on every block and back alley now.
As I walk down sidewalks cleared by rain
to get a coffee and newspaper,
I complain to myself about the price of the paper.
But I need that crossword.
Maybe this time I will finish it, although I never do.
In front of the Ovaltine restaurant, a 5 1/2 foot woman
in a drenched grey hoodie weaves and flails
through Hastings Street traffic
like a scarecrow  in the wind.
Horns blare at her “I don’t give a shit” smile.