Memories 1: Pic a Flic

A poem for Grandma Marni and Grandpa Jim.

Cook Street, downtown Victoria, back when
the oaks still towered, reassuringly
tall. A Science Venture summer, me 10...
ish, with Grandma to return a movie.

I couldn't tell you what film we had seen
but left in my mind are the dog and man
outside the Pic a Flic - hungry eyes, lean
bodies, a pleading voice: spare some change, ma'am?

Though I'm now a city hand and have passed
by my share of panhandlers, part of me
is still the little boy, so much impressed
with his grandmother, answering gently
and with what seemed like infinite wisdom:
no, but I'll buy you a sandwich. Here, come.