OK Hotel

212 Alaskan Way
September 8, 1996

I walk along 4th Avenue looking for a place to eat
until the wind grabs my hat from me.
Anxiety tries to be my pal as I fear
I'll lose my creativity.

Then a man with a hoarse, baritone voice
wearing a bandana and a shirt too small
jumps after my hat, catches it,
hands it to me with a low bow and says,
Pardon me, Ma'am.

I hope he hears the gratitude in my Thanks
that, maybe, didn't float beyond my hair
that attacks my face.