Over languid smoke rings outside
I watch traffic congeal to a minor clot;
and suddenly, there he is, arms flailing wide,
smack in the middle, directing the lot.
His madman’s antics raise a laugh;
until, looking closer, I observe his air
of splendid assurance, and wonder replaces
indulgent mirth. In seconds they’re gone,
those honking hordes, to whatever places
they were so unruly bound, waved benignly on
by this maverick’s masterly flair.
Business done, he pans for a desultory alm
or two (for he is a beggar, under his skin),
finds none giving. And before my startled eyes,
flags an auto down, hops in
with a toff’s panache and flies
to God knows where, to restore calm.