Zelda's Inferno exercise: write an observational poem
Fells Point Sunday Evening, June
I already forgot about the smell of cigarette smoke -- only now, sitting outside at cafe tables, must I breathe it again
Band up the street, someone overplaying guitar on bar music classics
Every few minutes, someone walking a dog goes by
Bits of three different conversations, outdoor cafe table conversations, things that somehow would not be spoken of indoors. My brain tries to string the fragments together into one story, does not succeed
Boats out in the harbor, sparrows zooming by at low attitudes, musicians carting amps, a runner with headphones
Lost tourists, a metermaid issuing a ticket
The slow movement of shadow as the sun sinks down behind the buildings behind us
From just a few dozen yards away, the water does not seem dirty, and the sunlight glints golden off the ripples
I look down a row of brick fronted buildings and see seven different types of red brick
The older I get, the more I like to see older men with younger women. Or older women with younger men.
Seven American flags in view from where I sit, just in case I forget what country I'm in or something.
Don't lean on the table and keep your boogers where they belong
Someone leans on their car horn, sirens off in the distance, loud music from a passing SUV
A woman returns to her car, finds the parking ticket, grimaces
Can you see the reflection as well as what's going on inside? Yes. I'm easily amused.