chestnuts

Walking home 

and the chestnuts

are falling

but no squirrels around 

to pick them up

hundreds, if not thousands 

lay like a bed 

of damaged abacuses.

I wonder if the homeless

have a taste for chestnuts.

I look around still no squirrels

but there's a man in a chefs coat

stuffing a bag with chestnuts 

I yell out - "what's on the menu?

he yells back - "for stews"

I add - "how about squirrel" 

the man in the chefs coat

shrugs his shoulders.

I walk to the corner 

the bed of chestnuts crunch

beneath the soles of my shoes.

I stop the light is green

I turn and look back, in the distance

couple of squirrels

nervously holding up chestnuts.

It seems 

that I've been voluntarily employed 

without union representation 

to supply dinner little easier 

for a couple of critters 

which then scatters laughingly

as I turn and wait for a red light.