Deserted Monday morning streets...
Even the homeless
are not at their usual benches
as squirrels and pigeons mill about,
puzzled by the absence of their benefactors...
The crosswalk mechanism
is keeping the beat;
ringing, ringing, ringing
like Poe's bells
but there is no one there to cross...
"Are the buses running'?",
asks an attractive late-night partyer,
her hair in slight disarray,
stiletto heels in hand...
"Don't think so, darling", says I,
daring the familiar
(for she is barefoot, after all)...
She smiles, winks at me and waves
and it is a marvel to see
her walk away,
sinuous, sliding quietly down the sidewalk...
A corner turns, as does the World...
Fresh blood stains in the doorway
of a long abandoned bodega.
The rising sun catches it,
turning it coppery brown.
Grim reminder, city life...
May 26, 2014
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