two possibilities of freedom

two possibilities of freedom

Option 1:

The child slips his father’s hand
and spirals in an eddy of
the city crowd. A busker scans
the crevices for dimes, while off
and to his left the gyro man
slips drags of cigarette behind his stall.
A hooker winks. Alone,
the child blooms with all
the possibilities now brushing up
against him like commuter hands.
He flower's further up
and in. He's never felt so found.

Option 2:

The child slips his father’s hand
and spirals in an eddy of
the city crowd. The smell of gyro draws
him out to where the shoulder’s shove,
where concrete squares are currency.
A busker plays a note
that sounds like lovers weeping. A baby
demands to be nursed. Alone,
the child frantically looks
for something, someone, for shelter.
The crooked skyline teeth bend down to suck
him in. He cannot find his father.