coffee cup in hand, steam rising from the lip, massaging the november chill from my face, i breathe deep a little girl on the concrete street corner.
little rainbow chalk dust fingers, draw in the grit, tongue poking out the corner of her mouth in concentration. a soiled paper cup drags by in the breeze, scraping, bop, popping a background beat, stealing a peek.
complete, she rises to her converse feet, wiping impressionist paintings on the legs of her jeans. eyes roam, finding an old mortar piece, fallen from between the bricks forming the urban jungle grown up long before she was ever conceived.
flipping the rock, she begins her journey, one, one, two, one, two...kneeling to retrieve and return, one, two, one, one, smile wide as an orange slice. some forgotten playground melody drifts from her lips across the asphalt to my ears, but she don't care who hears.
drained, my cup finds community among the refuse in the wire mesh trash can, bus' old bones squealing, stutter stopping to swallow me. kidnapping the girl in my memory, i carry her with me into the white sun day.
down the aisle of long faces, i find my seat,the soles of my shoes beat, one, one, two, one, two. a little rock i picked up along the way, bus belching sighs as we pull away.