summer Saturday morning of a more hopeful time
with sunlight beaming across the clear expanse
up high out of reach
walking down to work along blue-shadowed streets
among those sagging rows of aging paint-faded homes
eyes brimming bright all mirrors to the sky
but inside dark and sleeping off a drunk
olfactory ghosts of stale cigarette smoke
overflowing ashtrays and carpet crumb rubble
sad sunken eyed stares of kids at the screen
spilling their milk and waiting for trouble
No comments:
Post a Comment