stepping over trash
on the way back from lunch
twelve dollar fish tacos digesting above the scenery
cracked city sidewalk exhaust stained, pigeons on the fence
rumpled plastic, matted paper, flattened cans
cigarette butts, shards of glass
piercing the soul of my sandals
little pieces fly in the wake of each step
passed the chain link stuffed
with dying weeds
woven with random litter
once free to fly in the breeze
it’s a sunny, blue sky day
a potato chip bag
dancing animated impaled on the chain link
that marks the public boundary between
the homeless camp and endless river of cars
a man with no shirt and missing teeth
walks past me over the
pigeon shit
on the sidewalk
under the freeway overpass
he carries a fishing pole and a keyboard
perhaps to catch inspiration
i wonder on my way back to the office
looking desperately
for some bait
are we fishing the same hole?