whipped-up: a five-minute foray.

The New Demographic

A squeal rounds the corner. The leaves fray

Beyond the dull street lamp’s commands.

Beyond, a fire escape zigs into a row of tins

Of vegetables, one clay pot towering empty

Then up to the roof like a swimming pool.

The black paddy hat set atop a steel drum

Doesn’t smoke, enjoying the view. Seagulls

Fly over Williamsburg. The gear behind

A green awning remains unaffected as flaps

Ripple in the breeze. Cyclists with ducktails

Of plastic glide serenely toward small futures.

An artist obscures someone else’s boast

A wisp of cigarette smoke bisects the day

Bicycles laze against everything with chains.

Portfolios swing alongside soft leather boots

A bridge sticks out its tongue, hard to see.

Cement plaques stuck into brickwork flower

So that even slick with rain they lend cheer.

Violent gusts rain petals into carpeting

And a bathtub squats defiantly on the sidewalk.

COPYRIGHT BETH SZYMANSKI 04.13.2012