“What are you smiling at?”
the man with a bag of cans
snarls at me
as I swoop by on my bicycle
to the door
of the grocery store

when before that
in the middle of my Sunday afternoon
sunshine adrenaline ride downtown
I realized a red bell pepper
would send that night’s planned meal
into the stratosphere

when before that
I cranked an old Dave Brubeck record
while sweeping the front porch
of the house the bank
lets me keep so far

when before that
my teenage cat
pranced into the house
all swanky
with an almost gone
mockingbird in his mouth

when before that
I woke from a dream I ran in
through a field and took flight in
over forests and towns
then rolled over
and pulled the naked woman
whom I’m still in love with
after a quarter century
all the way next to me

so on the spur of the moment
I couldn’t quite figure
how to answer
the gentleman’s question

Bob Hudson is in your town.