Poetry

The city waters sidewalks
in hope the grass stays green.
Nobody objects – spilling gasoline.
In long lines they idle – waiting, waiting...

They swim, coy
fish slick, elusive
slippery forms, but
tangled by lines—
Snap! A bombardment of scales,
high, low, blazing bright,
speckles in water, precious
flakes of rare gold.

Amber light on
shadowed walls
Window cracked
half-open. Here,
wind plays the tolls of night
waving the white curtain.
Somewhere in the dark abyss
A dog cries
himself to sleep.