An old woman gazes from a second floor window as humidity rises from cracks in the sidewalk.

Cars crawl in the street and
pedestrians race the red light
taking it yellow.

I walk slowly and gaze into
exotic shops stopping here
and there.

A gallery, a co-op, the news
stand, leather goods and a
coffee house.

I smell diesel fumes and stop to watch a truck negotiating a
right-hand turn.

The old woman looks down at
me and says, “They always have trouble on that intersection.”

~©Jazzi Ryan Ranes~

Published by Jazzi Ryan Ranes

Disseminator of anomalous information. Curator of Letters, Word Maker, Poet, Freethinker.

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