A NICE DAY IN BELLTOWN
By Seana Sperling
A sun-drenched street,
Lined with buzzing utility poles.
The alley is pungent with the almost sweet smell,
Of alcohol mixed with urine.
Drowning cigarette butts,
Decorate the sky's reflection.
"It's 85 degrees," says the guy crossing the street.
Female schizophrenic proselytizing,
To the parking meters.
"Got any change?" she asks as I pass.
Evidently I've been saved.
There's a bumblebee on a purple flower,
Growing from a crack in the pavement.
(Flower image compliments of Seana's friend Kathy Jewell.)