for the little ones.

one, two, pile of poo
three, four, syringe wash'd ashore
five, six, piles of bricks

sev'n, eight, paper plate
nine and ten, the garbage men
wave and say hello.

eager beaver

husky woman in

bikini passionately

deep throats foot-long sub.

es ist ein wiener!

emboldened lad

unzips and whizzes in bush,

nosy krauts look on.

good morning

he glistens like a

porpoise, the man bathing in

the drinking fountain

pita

whilest on my mid late
afternoon trot i happen
upon an open

door. inside is a
magical world of ovens
and conveyor belts.

trains of flat breads zip
by, monorails and skyways.
i stop, stare, and smell.

a man in white wipes
his brow, adjusts his hairnet,
and sighs, 'damn its hot.'

somehow i manage
to ignore the layer of
bird droppings that coat

the exterior
walls and dumpsters of dough and
say, 'but it smells good.'

grapesque

woman with wiener
dogs exits elevator,
smells of purple gum.

sidewalk treasures

ice cream cone (melted).
single child-sized croc (torquoise).
pigeon (grey, headless).