A dear friend says I'm brave to go it solo in the city…
she has a husband - seven kids - two dogs - and a neurotic cat
yet she dubs me brave!
I'm not brave, I'm transparent amidst glass and steel…
night lights the tower windows - eyes watching, winking
lobby doors gobble people only to spit them out again.
At a sidewalk café I'm the superintendent of this concrete esplanade…
watching women in heels, men in suits (some in heels)
poop scooping dog owners - who's the bulldog here?
In sublime heat, under threatening sky, a dry Chardonnay wets my lips…
the paved people mover hosts a carnival of characters
rushing to their next scene - to the burbs' trimmed lawns
where wifey waits, hoping the train's on time,
that the roast isn't dry - that he's in a good mood
hubby, stopping in for a spirited lift, is in the mood for pasta.
Puffy-cheeked clouds let out a thunderous roar…
howling gusts of wind send spittle in sideways sheets
inverted umbrellas rage their angry teeth skyward
drenching the women's trendy doos while dogs pull masters to shelter
waiters scurry to tie down awnings against swirling winds
must keep the patrons dry!
As the subsiding torrent sends steam rising from hot pavement
my reasons for choosing the city are clear…
inhaling the energy of these brume ensconced streets
cast in this impromptu street opera
playing my part in the faceless crowd
braving the amusing summer storms.
Copyright © Deborah Nunn | Year Posted 2013
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