Another Sunday Afternoon

Another Sunday afternoon in fall in Brooklyn dead leaves rustle over the cracked sidewalks mixed with the trash of careless minds the September sun is a golden orb spinning on the web of the azure sky and the sound of children laughing dapples the eager air breathe deep and feel the warmth that penetrates the bones when time is a pendant you choose not to wear... A crowd on the corner women and men idly passing the quiet hours in casual conversation I pass and there before me ten feet away no more a crumpled figure in the gutter drunk asleep? ! a long and frivolous night, my friend? (chuckle softly do not wake) But then... the smooth line yes near the head there trickled, dried of blood is almost imperceptible the crowd on the corner patiently waiting for someone to take him away Another Sunday afternoon in fall in Brooklyn. (Previously published in Ygdrasil, Nov. '99)