An alley. The warm side.

Red bricks mortared with sweat.

Black pipes track to the roof.

A radio bubbles the air.

Sad songs like cold air

drop into shadows.

A window watcher. Second floor.

Beneath the fire escape.

Fingers prying apart white blinds.

Viewing below; eyes deep set, hidden

in a cave, protected, revealing nothing.

Pigeons scatter; a squall of feathers

swirl to below. Heavy shuffling feet

enter a back door. Slamming hard,

waking the dead; two cats run for cover.

Window fingers slip into retreat.

Secret eyes full from stealing sights.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s