Contrast

Earlier.

Casino snack bar. 
Cheap tables and chairs
waver in a haze of smoke.
Upholstered benches 
bulging and split.
Backed into a corner

I see him eating.

Feral.

Elbows like turrets

guarding his food.

Chin low,

dark marble eyeballs

rolling back and forth

in their sockets...

I'm reminded of the cat clock

except he isn't smiling.

Later.

Whole Foods parking lot.

Blue-collar worker all the way

standing in dust shrouded jeans,

his white shirt not so white.

The tailgate is down,

battered and bent,

two boys sit in the truck bed,

couldn't be older than eight.

Late-night picnic

spread out on a ratty blanket.

Mouths stuffed with food, 
chins high,

eyes scanning the star-studded sky

with that look of wonderment

only children seem to have.

My smile carries me home.