Lazy snake trains
slumber overhead,
listing hard into long
rusty corners,
rattling like bones in pain
resembling old men
walking to the park.
Dark cafes list
yesterday’s menus
where hungry hands
rain down with forks
and sharp knives,
scratching plates
while lovers kiss
and strangers stare.
Sidewalks spotted
with gum and spit
lay flat under a rising sun
as shadows creep silently
over shoulders and streets
as the day grows on the
city.
.
Roger Singer 