Impressions on a Cold Workday
Where the grass pokes out
In punky tufts,
Watch the Spanish Women
On their way to the bus...
They have rags lashed around
Frigid flesh...
There is jagged concrete,
And some sly Winter left...
When the body is cold
Eyes investigate sights
Of sensation and code...
While their sitting upright
In this Waiting Asylum that's
Moored to concrete
The two Spanish women tap
A dance with their feet...
Woman on the right peers at
Structure beyond
Rather high up the hill...
There are words sprawled upon
The ancient bricked business
That's set for the chop...
Pretty soon with construction
There will be a new spot...
She's intrigued by the structure...
The palatial design...
How the framework juts out
Into festive wild lines
Is how her trembling awe
Makes her humble heart lurch...
She is warmed by this vibrance
In the place where wind hurts...
The woman on the left is lost
Within ersatz lights
From her cellphone that she purchased
After chasing status heights...
She is playing a Soduko game,
While trash blows around both legs...
There's an ironed down chicken hut
That she eyes now with distaste...
The bus pulls up at long last,
Revives both the women out of their trance...
The one on right is glowing bright...
She boards & pays with fleeting glance...
Left woman has head slumped down...
She spills out her coins all over the ground!...
The bus driver bends to help field her through her woe...
Seventy five cents remains expected for her toll...
4/14/24
Bunny Villaire
Edit#4