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~
