Pollen came suspicious,
winding across the bench
and settled on a hat box
striped in pink.

The gentleman seated there
guards the hat. Focused on a sidewalk
stone he stares, nervous, smoking
a dime-store brown cigar.

His wife waits inside
the sea foam walls, considering
their color, she begins to think,
But the doctor interrupts -

the man outside taps the box -
She cringes from his breath
"Congratulations,
the rabbit's dead."