stepping from an office
(for that ‘illegal’ cigarette)
in my shelter by the bank,
i saw a stranger, singing in the rain
followed by another man
gold from head to foot
i may never see their like again
i saw a crowd of people
follow them, all in funny hats
smiling and laughing
the bells rang on their ankles
the bells rang in the steeple
and the traffic had to slow
where they were going
i may never know
they must be tourists
in this magnolia painted town
where no one ever smiles

i remember summers
and places long ago
when we all did this,
a part of daily life,
and children danced with us
lit by torches, late into the night
life was a festival
before we all forgot to smile
is this a revolution?
where do i sign up?