(Gallery Featured Below)
Dodging Cigarettes at Noon
One foot in front of another,
a pothole here,
the pavement cracks there.
steadily from the rusty fire escape,
worn out, clinging to Sears.
Vertical giants loom large,
inventors dwarfed by shadows made long,
their egos supported by rebar,
their magnificence reflected by large glass windows.
A discolored shop sign hangs loose,
worn from the stare of passer-bys -
the owner toils away,
stale coffee his lone friend in a noisy world.
The intoxicating smell of steak lingers,
mixed crudely with taxi exhaust,
confusing the senses.
Shoes well worn tread down the way,
and foraging pigeons
used cigarette butts.
~ Bill Breneman ~