Deserted Street

 

There is something

About a deserted street,

That time of day

After five on a long weekend

When people are at the lake,

On the ocean fishing,

At barbeques or in their

Rooms with fans and

Air conditioners,

The odd car, a lone

Street person checking

Garbage cans for tins

And things,

A straggling tourist

Lost in a map,

There is something

About a deserted street

Where a black coffee

And a croissant

Take you places

You once were,

Places you might

Have been had you

Known better.

 

Stephen Nesbitt ©

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