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.)