CAMEO

A homeless woman

jags into a sandwich shop

trilling something faintly

beneath her breath.

Helps herself, like a duchess,

to a pitcher,

splashing the aqua into

the battered paper cup

she came in with.

Drinks like a moose.

Then turns toward the door, her voice

now a growing rumble. The tune,

familiar. Something circa 1980.

She swaggers across the café, slowly,

her bravado building.

The crescendo is imminent.

Every eye is on her.

Like a misplaced diva,

or a wayward Cyndi Lauper,

she, literally, exits ass-backwards,

singing, blaring:

If you're lost you can look - and you will find me

Time after time.

If you fall I will catch you – I will be waiting

Time after time.