Wednesday, March 7, 2012


Across from the Colisseum
a woman sits on a ledge
or squats
she is too large to tell.

Hand on knee, smoke in hand
she puffs, horks, spits, repeats.

The ugliest child I have ever seen
brushes past, grinning fuzzy teeth.

"Were you just on camera, you little Jackass?"

The wind lifts his laugh away.

At the corner of two one-way streets
a woman, maybe ninety
prim and done up
aside from a smudge or two
on her pink sweatpants
crouches behind a trash can
to shelter her cigarette.

A sudden gust and a quiet shout
she has tumbled over backwards.

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