City Tableau #4
She with black netted hair,
adorning the pole of a flimsy physique,
carrying two white plastic bags
of Mexican bread. Her lanky shadow
folded from swollen hands of daytime’s
interpretative flying handouts.
Two shoeless boys race into
her shadow, adding vulgarity
into its silvery shape of straightness—
yank into thievery
two bags of Mexican bread,
breaking the chain of hand-plastic bag.
Warp becomes their distant backs,
her steps unwind into halt, into
the pensive sitting of the single
mother,
who must float home
foodless
revising the halo around her
netted head into describing
another night of gurgling
conversations between children’s
starving stomachs.
A young girl with pink chalk
draws an exhausting image
of her future face atop a busy
corner. Black birds join her,
pecking at specks of discarded
wheat bread. Soon, myriad
of onlookers stand in ovals,
awe-shaped mouths express
their reflections.
Young girl, one scant piece
of pink chalk has drawn a treacherous
image, face atop sully street-based,
self-mirroring surroundings,
symphony of swinging swords entitled:
“hara-kiri.”
Night now squatting into
deep gray lines of wrinkled
faces. Two positioned bodies,
beneath the hoarder of debris:
green bench, vocalize in twisting,
meshing, braiding conversation.
Syllables dive into rhythmic
exhalation, nonsense in “musical”
formations reverberate from car
trunks, youth wear
faces of testimonial fervor
across overweight t-shirts
whose mission
to outweigh intellect
with stupidity
succeeds. Moments with wielding birds,
carving delight across grayish boredom, garish
flame erupts, fascinating.
