STREETS Project > the reader

the reader sits on the bench
book in hand, but not reading
watching the people amble past
with their dark jackets loosely flapping
hurrying at times
wandering about at others.

i am watching the reader
as he watches others
as they amble pass,
the red socks he is wearing
flash as he shifts
little signals waiting.

he left a pile of orange peels
on his right on the bench
i casually wonder
if he plans on leaving the peels.

the stark blue sky stands up
behind the buildings
holding up the clouds
and the stars
which we can't see
when the sun is out.

and the buildings
which surround us;
reader watcher, watcher of reader,
make stone canyon walls
cold, dreary grey,
sitting like a crowd
of old women at the wake
of their favorite friend
or the town gossip;
the buildings whisper too.

as i walk away
my reflection glints back
in the amazingly clean
windows of the department store.

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