Monday, February 27, 2012

Rush Hour

Multihued fabrics criss-cross her legs ankle to ankle,
disturbing the gray backdrop of her baggy flannel pants.
The colorful patches offset her glinting metal cane
with its four-footed rubber-tipped scraping claw. Her hooded
sweater-jacket blends with ancient follicles, hood and hair
sprouting only cotton-white. With the sun glistening off
her soft, pulpy face, she reveals her drummer's cadence through
her crooked gait's jerky rhythm in the crowded crosswalk.

I almost hear the raps and taps when she stops at the curb,
bending sideways awkwardly to nab the forgotten change.

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