Gordon Square

The old church stood

All afternoon I waited

Tables loaded with porcelain 

I'm sorry you saw that

Vomiting, voiding into the bowl

Left for passing dogs 

Bent page copies of free literature 

This isn't a library, sir. Jabroni, jerk

Move along. Buy or move along

Clean up and sanitizing. Bleach

Stainless steel cutters at the meat market 

Oldest thing left besides the church 

The bar features Fruit Loops and cheese

Crackers on their hotdogs for six

Dollars rattling on ends of the street 

Blocked and bookends by bus 

Lobby energy

I make fun of my mother too much but I'll say she raised me with what would be quickly called class. But with a higher word count called crippling anxiety of what others would think. So Mami would never let me get away with what I call hotel lobby sloppy. Folks queuing up to order coffee in their swimsuits and rolling overloaded bell boy carts with Joann Fabric totes. 

Sure, I sound like a snob dear reader but I have the class to keep it on check and shove everything unfolded into the same duffel bag I've had since high-school. There, functional and not name brand but contained. 

This is "I only go out to eat on Valentines day" energy. A sort of the world stops for me so who cares energy.  Privilege check, I grew up where others vacation so this otherness cut across all lines. Dont do that, its what others do. Not us. And when we did internal tourism it was to affirm we were part of the culture. We got it even when we did the same swim up bar at the hotel by the airport. You could watch jets take off if you had a balcony view. 

The clerk behind the counter is making fun of this on the Slack chat. Karen memes and the line of "I want to speak to the manager" removed of all its venom.

Spring

Mud followed signaling 

Spring from every corner every tile

soiled in terracotta, when younger

just plain brown when older

exposed earthworm casings, tree roots 

Swallowing up sandals, destroying boots

We'll donate shoes. To the school, church 

Anyone who gets stuck in stalking mud

Old sneakers from memories some with

holes, but untouched by mud.