zen = amnesia = book = notes = type = profile = nhwc = px
43things = soma = three dog party = fotolog = host

now

through my open window
beyond the refuge of shade
i hear the incessant sound of gears,
bicycle chains grinding and rattling
clicking like crude mechanical crickets.

on afternoon deserted asphalt,
weaving through patches
black and mottled as a melanoma
where old cars sleep at night
and soundlessly leak oil

the summer-bored boys ride
in infinite circles spiraling around manhole covers
beneath power lines draped with discarded sneakers
dark hair wrapped in sun-bleached bandanas
ignoring street signs
going nowhere.


[i had to write something for nhwc and this was just a sketch of what i was seeing out of my window. i did not mean for this to come across as racist or overly-bleak. has been pointed out to me that it seems this way.... i am just an over-heated non-air-conditioned girl who sits in front of a pointlessly open window all day at her computer and notices that the bike riding behavior/patterns of her neighborhood's youth seem rather depressing. and the neighborhood is depressed. and maybe i am depressed too...]

before = after