A Shell Game in Florence                                    



            A siren sounds – meekly, 
            I think, for the police

            All along the street
            I watch the black ears perk and 
            Give a little twitch before their
            Owners cinch the cloths on which
            The goods have been displayed
            Into a purse and flatten out the
            Cardboard tables which they tuck
            Under their arms to file away as one,
            Led by an unseen hand, no doubt
            To give the cops a rest – and them
            Another chance to make a buck 


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             Emanuel E. García, Sojourns, 2014