Afternoon – Page 2

Gotham

metal folding chairs-
coffee cans half full of ash
on the fire escape
–
urban jungle-
pole beans climb
my barred windows

lost in the mirror-
years collecting on the floor
‘neath the barber’s chair
–
wading-
knee deep
in the past

linens on the line-
warm peals of children’s laughter
waft in on the breeze
–
wicker baskets-
a coffee can of
broken clothespins

highway median-
long neglected grasses sway
with the passing cars
–
towering light pole-
a red tailed hawk
spots it’s prey

whitewashed beach shanties-
a path of crushed coral ends
at the ebbing tide
–
salt air-
a gull’s cry
above the surf

the morning commute-
unexpected lavender blossoms
along the roadside
–
traffic-
a glimpse of
an osprey

flowering milkweed-
monarchs unfurl their new wings
to catch the sunlight
–
iridescence-
concentric rainbows
on the pavement

by a country lane-
a hand lettered wooden sign
farm fresh eggs for sale
–
fresh eggs-
a card table
in the shade

alone at the bar-
a campari and soda
by a full ashtray
–
neon lights-
my reflection in
an empty glass

the screen door askew-
on the dead oak a tire swing
full of autumn leaves
–
a rusted bike-
through the spokes
foxtails grow