Snap Crackle

Picture her
fingering a flute
from her seat
in the wheelchair
and observe how
her skinned knees
are scabs too sore
for hose
and show below
her plaid hemline.
Notice how
her fingers dance
sun shadow music
upon the cafe’s
outside wall
where she collects
tips in a tiny bird bath
that cups
the coppery-zinc
of square-hole coins
that hold down paper currency.
Notice how
her clenched jaw
requires a fiddle player
to relax into the tune,
but that was last Tuesday
when the soap-bubbles
blown by neighborhood kids
floated into traffic
just before they froze.