I focus on the humanity
spilling off the escalator
like a reversed waterfall.
Shouted orders and expresso
machine racket distracts,
along with the pungent lattes.
The pianist in the bar attempts to mangle
songs with enough volume to be
heard over patrons and highballs.
The sterility of abundant fluorescents
and white walls is displaced by the
press of people, overflowing garbage
cans and dingy floors —
her auburn hair singles her out,
more woman than girl now.
She has been gone too long,
I have missed so much.
Margo Roby’s challenge this week was to create a sense of place with a corresponding epiphany in the style of James Wright’s “Lying in a Hammock…”. Lets see if I am even in the same sport, much less ‘in the ballpark.’