back alley

TFE challenged us to "get on da poetry bus" for Monday and write
a poem from one or more of his ten inspiring photos. So, without
further ado, I chose this evocative picture, and my poem follows.
For more participants, pop on over to TFE's blog [HERE].

Back Alley


Running late,
I dropped my life
at the dry cleaners.

Down the alley,
I slipped the cold nickles
from my eyes,
and tossed them

in the busker’s plate
on the pavement,
under the graffiti art,
and classifieds.

The hot dog vendor,
looked a lot
like Jesus,
and his pushcart,

filled with the sacraments
of fries and pickles,
was not what
I expected.


Willow, 2009