Urban Fantasy

The wind gusts like a tantrum
on a sticky day
as I wander the streets
on a mission.

Out of the driver's seat,
I can see the relics
of an urban dump
covered by pompous plantings.

Painted benches lack their colors,
as chips of the pigment have worn away.
The benches are occupied, so I wander
further along this bustling road.

Litter colors manicured lawns
in vomit grays and rusty browns.
The winds scoop up the bags
and toss them in my face.

Why do I get this as I wander along?

The main drags hide the city's pains:
crumbling homes, paint splashed on the walls.
Endless streams of vehicles clog everything:
pavement, my ears, channels of patience.

Another invisible torrent ventilates
my blouse, putrid from perspiring.
I pick up a foot and step again,
continuing my blasted trek.

New buildings hold no promise.
I step in and am not cooled.
Water from a distant fountain
weighs on my fatigued body, quenching my aches.

Desperate calls on an outdated phone
bring me transport at a high cost.
I'm hardly relieved
as I fall onto the fluffy cushions.

Twelve bucks saved me from getting hit by a car...or train.

Forking over precious green papers,
I resumed walking to my haven:
a little money vacuum
in a business cluster.

On the cluster grounds are newborn soda cans;
fresh colors are virgin to the blanching sun.
These cans are new to the street life,
not ready for car tires and fleeting currents.

Beige structures are masked by
kicked up dirt, sandblasting the concrete.
Bars bar entrances to the businesses
which feed this cluster.

Stumbling over potholes, dodging behemoth trucks,
I find my little gem: a silver sedan.
The haven's in sight!
There go my borrowed Jacksons.

I'm willing to give it all to avoid the urban sights.

My payment complete, I drive off,
westward into the hazy sun.
Unkind silhouettes greet my drained eyes
as I guide my treasure home.

Ancient signs bombard my vision,
ready to topple onto me
as traffic tiptoes forward,
one wheel rotation at a time.

Gas meter dips like a South Beach dancer.
Buses stop jerking forward with backward reverb.
Cars glide past as I idle eternal seconds away,
waiting for the bus to lurch forward.

I swerve, pass and turn
to reach my home, to store my treasure.
A long journey has ended,
yet I cannot rest.

I paid the price for this mobile haven, and off I go to pay my constant debt.