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
