A Friday Afternoon At Iowa State

Something happened the other day
A wobbly table and an outdoor café
In a place called “Dog town.”
Where I walked as a young man
Dreaming of success and happiness
I forget the name, but they served a crêpe
Filled with goat cheese and spinach and fire
Roasted tomatoes that tasted a lot like the
Kind that came out of a can at the store
Peeled and boiled and round and fat
But what do I know as I sat and read and
Pretended
This is an outdoor café at University
And the crêpe was warm and full of
Flavor and fun as I read and believed I
Could still succeed
There were just two of us alone
And many families and friends and employees
But what happened next is why I write
A sparrow dropped like a leaf and from
My reverie I awoke to find no one noticed
The little brown bird
Like the SUV rusting in front of us
On the street empty and suddenly there and
No one found concern or irony or fear
Of a roadside bomb placed to take us away
From our crêpes and our cappuccinos and
Our teas and salads
And the little brown bird looked under the
Empty table for scraps
Daring not to enter under the occupied
So I beckoned and he came
For some crêpe perched on my hand
And no one noticed
As he flew away still searching
No one noticed at all