Saturday, August 2, 2008

Concrete Canyon

Saturday Afternoon in the Concrete Canyon

Listen to the wind whistle down
The concrete canyon
Stillness at hand,
The asphalt rivers cut through
The concrete walls,
Little life flows along their blackened surface.
The stillness is interrupted by the random
Call of the Holla back and shout out birds,
And the strident trumpeting of
hoopties and lo- riders:
resplendent in their spinners and hi-gloss sheen.
Church bells call out the cadence of passing
Minutes and hours
And the hum of life is hushed and slow,
As if anticipating the time when
The lights flip on, and once again
The asphalt and concrete fill with
The symphony of night music-
But for now, the wind whistles
Through the concrete canyon,
The asphalt river runs dry,
And the only sounds are those
Of anxious anticipation
Of the evening to come..

No comments: