there were Chinese examining the sights

she was window shopping

with a pink ladies' bag loosely hanging from her hand

wearing a pink skirt which stopped above her knees

when a man in a top hat stopped her and said "Please,"

would you be so kind as to give me a piece of your mind?"

and the look in her eyes 

showed her complete surprise

that a man wearing nothing except a formal hat

on a busy commercial street

could cause her heart to pause and skip a beat

and she glanced around 

hearing the strange sound

of a clown juggling his teeth and the fat lady singing her tune

with a worn-out artist playing his worn-out bassoon.

she didn't know what to think or what to say,

things like this didn't happen much during the day.

there were Chinese examining the sights, in their own way,

making sure to express their delights

at the shopping spirts and the bright city lights 

and in the reflections of store windows, silent ghosts stood and smiled

at the working men passing in their cars

waving to the pink ladies sitting at sidewalk bars

and painters walking the wide stairs

carrying thin brushes between their hungry lips,

coloring between the lines, 

imagining Picasso designs,

watching the sashaying of hips

between the hours of four and seven

when highway angels unfold their wings and fly straight up to Heaven

looking for the man in a top hat

and not only that

but for a warm bite to eat and a tossed coin

and a lonely hearts club band to listen to and join.

there's a mission home near the factory and the food bank

where the lady in pink found a place to sit and drink

when she grew tired of holding her bag

she couldn't remember if she should make a zig or zag,

and she never answered the top hat,

so he moved on

to question another pedigree cat;

everyone smiled as the tourist cameras  clicked and shuttered,

like crusty French bread sitting under the hot sun buttered

with a hearty glass of red:

it was what someone suddenly said

before heading off to his stone cold bed,

to look for his favorite book which still remains unread.