I took a walk in the rain

I took a walk in the rain. Got to wear my new rain jacket.

On Madison, a teal shirt hangs half in half out of the After Hour Depository.

A man with a stubbled chin sheltering under an Absolut Vodka umbrella checks the meters for overlooked change. I stop for coffee at Baby’s On Fire. A portly guy in shorts, tattooed arms, shoulders, thighs, head clasped in white ear phones, stares at his laptop, on his lap, a ball of white yarn and the lacey white piece he’s crocheting. A sturdy young woman wearing a Washington Wizards cap and an Under Armour grey hoody slouches in, sceptically searches the bins of old vinyl – bursts into a smile. She hadn’t expect to find that.

On my way back, at Monument and Cathedral, lush blossoms hang from the lamp posts in the park. Toadstools grow in the tree wells.

The elegant old townhouse long renovating, flourishes a banner – Now Leasing.

I shake the rain off my umbrella – I’m home.

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Street music

What do I listen to? It all depends in summer, with the windows open, I listen to the street

The harrumph of garage trucks beep-beeping delivery trucks 4-wheeled rap blasting air brakes of the Pink line bus – murmur of background traffic – Ambulances shrieking East to Mercy, North to Hopkins Whup-whup-whup of PD ‘copters Gabbers, laughers, argumenters, sometimes a dog, sometimes a child, a fiddler once.

Hushed interludes of mid-day heat

In the evening, bottles clinking, outdoor-sitters at the MarketPlace, the ting-ding-ding of the Light Rail train, a radio.

In the silence after-hours, I hear the refrigerator hum.

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kindness in Baltimore City

Baltimore is a divided city – black and white and in between. Some see the other as enemy. But that’s not so. For example, today I took my white-haired, white lady self and my small red cart down the street to the Asian market on a block best described as iffy. I’m moving slowly recovering from an injury. As I’m about to leave the store, an African-American man passing on the street, pauses and kindly holds the door for me. Thank you. The AA men lounging on the sidewalk move aside offering words of encouragement – take it easy, take it easy.

There is kindness everywhere.

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Who would do this to a flower?

Last week, flowers – red and white vinca –
were planted beneath the curbside tree.

Come Sunday morning, they were not.
Someone had pulled them out
and left them, roots upturned
to die.

Who would do this to a flower?

I imagined some reveler coming from the corner bar
stumbled there and
out of need or spitefulness
asked the flowers –
Love me? Love me not?

Gently I pressed them back
into their holes

Will they survive? Who knows –
flowers are a hardy lot.

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Fate: the intersection of Time and Space.
Monday, June 12th
Me on foot and
a black Honda.

[the longer version]

I laugh and say I’m risk adverse
I look both ways on one-way streets
until yesterday, when I forgot.
Too late, I saw a backwards, fast-moving car.
I jumped aside, but not enough
x-rays said nothing broken.

I’ve learned my lesson
Fate can strike from all

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Dandelion gold

Dandelion gold
honeys the bee
silvery wisps

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Went out this morning

Went out this morning
and bought a baguette
My neighborhood allows such pretty pretense –
the young ones all dressed for a street scene
in Paris or Soho.
French bakery, and Dragon
Elegant and funky
cheerfully collide.

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