More randomness from Austin

East 29^th Street

Why don’t I mind

the green dumpsters

overflowing

with trash bags pecked full of grackle-holes, and

soggy cardboard boxes

whose rotting contents have spilled

onto the pavement?

Tomato scraps

and tortilla boxes are obstacles

on my sleepy walk to school.

On wet days, a trickling stream

leads from the drain,

past the piles of bike wheels,

around the corner.

In drier times, the stream becomes

a puddle,

in which green goo grows

happily in the scorching sun,

and grackles bathe with relish.

Tangled power lines gather,

some drooping ominously,

providing perfect perches for

the screeching, feasting birds.

But from my penthouse,

through the screenless window,

in the fading light, the rooftops

with their air ducts and fans,

the cranes,

the tower,

and the stadium beyond,

are stunning.

Striking is perhaps a better word.

A well groomed lawn’s got nothing

on my alley.