hundreds thousands
nay millions of
tiny white tiles
shine in the pavements
as gutter bursting rain
flows down the Alameda
from the Cathedral high
to the tram rattling
slopes to the quiet
streets where secret
liaisons now dispersed
take place all night

but in a doorway
a beautiful woman
leans against the jamb
still seeking custom
her weary face and
olive skin blanched
by the harsh street light

down down the streets
the rain rivers pour
and in the quiet corner
of a square where starlings
flocked and a cricket sang
all is silent

a car stops

red lights

11/05/2006

Posted on 11/05/2006
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