On the way to Oysters

a street
off Dupont,
P or Q,
she walked
uneasily toward
me, blocked my
way,

     "I have a question for
you, young man." she said,

about 60 years old,
horn rimmed glasses
large framed and bifocal-ed,

Yeah?

she held her pocketbook
tightly, arms crossed
over wool knee-length
coat,

     "Just one."

knit cap sitting loose
at hairline,
rouge lipsticked mouth
partially hidden
behind homemade
scarf, she asked,

     "Is it Tuesday,
tuesday...today?"

Err, uhh, yeah, yeah,
yeah it is, I answered,

     "Oh," she smiled,
"Oh, good, that's what I thought."