Sonnet at the West Side Market

I wrote this about four years ago, but it still seems a bit applicable now. Especially today. Here is another go ’round it. I’m only allowed thirty minutes, remember.

Early morning at the market is
busier than usual today;
the grocer’s spiels are as
polished as their apples.
I saw an old friend there, her
wise cat wouldn’t let
her sleep while the avocados
were on sale.

Spring Fever goes shirtless
in sixty-five degree sunshine, spends
ten bucks on a half-pound of
cheese, is friends with stray cats, and
makes love with the windows open.
What a guy.