Down the Alley

This alley stretches long

starting from the small, scrub houses

past the old man’s semi shack

his possessions spilling

willy nilly

into the grass forsaken yard.

Ramblers travel this alley

from the postwar huts

to up behind

the 1920 mansions

with pool courtyards

brimming with

moss roses and sweet potato ivy.

Make me a laurel

of purple sage blooms

and moon flowers.

On these blocks

down they go,

alley wise and seeking.

The drifters, the treasure hunters,

the ab-fit joggers

tracing its path

from decay to grace

the madams and marsupials

night creatures

delve into the alley place

as the mansion owners rest

in money sleep.

In the light of day,

traffic slows

from the cracked, overgrown

meager origin

to the pristinely paved ending

and that is where

I find the opossum

now decaying

unlucky nomad

who was busy

about in the laurel flowers

meeting his end

with restless canines

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