the sad avenue,
its broken down starlets
just standing, not looking
for some soothsayer
nor swaying for some lover-
just standing, swallowed by
the sounds of some treacly pop group.
it's too early in the morning,
too early to stand there empty,
without quietude.
when the parade petered out,
passed along like this morning sunlight
through clouds of cotton candy, shouting,
hollering with all its punchdrunk, sadeyed brilliance,
the avenue sat, sadly, and all its tired sadness sat,
wondering how in the hell it had gotten there.
JHS
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