The Camel
Rolling dismal clouds,
Grayer buildings,
and a stack of smoke closer than usual...
Here,
Fire escapes bind dirty, white buildings
and laundry dries on-top of shedding fences...
The people roam,
as if they have no place to go,
past graffiti stained walls
and towards the 7-11,
where-above,
a friendly camel smiles down at me.
"who is that" I inquire from the passenger seat, baseball cap fastened tight.
" that's the very bad cigarette camel" my father replies, as we drive away.
Copyright © Katelyn Dobbs | Year Posted 2012
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem.
Please
Login
to post a comment