Thursday, October 8, 2009

566. DOWNTOWN

DOWNTOWN
There was a catcall from the welter
of noise - someone rudely shouting
a name. No one looked up to see what
was the matter. An inauspicious, noisy
muddle such as this certainly marred the
day. Workers in coats were struggling home,
wrong buttons on heavy jackets, smokes
from chimneys and cigarettes too, dwindling
upward in the dusk of a frosty night. 'We'll
save whatever we can if the big frost comes,
but for now all we can do is wait. Everything
else has already been taken in.' I couldn't tell,
really and for sure, if that was a gardener
speaking or a tailor. It's always like that in
this jumble'd eve of a city racket. Noise and
chatter, smashing together like pots and pans.

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