CITY LIFE
Poems on living in a small city
By V. A. Jeffrey
Smashwords Edition
Copyright 2012
Photo taken by Federico Donatini
High Window
How high the window from the street
yet near the pulse and sound
of cars flying off the exit into town
and of garbage trucks that roar and chug,
making the walls shake and tremble.
The lulls of silent night rise
into the dull roar of the business day.
A rowdy day with dogs barking
and heels clicking over blaring horns.
The rush of traffic rumbles and bumbles
late into the evening
and the pounding pulse of noise
rises past the high window from the street.
The People
From my window I see the people;
the people who live and sleep on the streets.
The woman who hangs around the north-side church
who screams wordlessly at demons who aren't there.
She asked me for a dollar once but I had none
so she told me she'd go back to her corner
and stop pretending to be human again.
The man who sits in front
of the ugly steel and glass condo
that blocks my view of Mt. Hood,
sits amidst his many bags stuffed with newspapers,
sits there, his coke bottle glasses taped together.
I see him in scorching summer and frigid winter,
sitting by the condo fountain, just holding his peace.