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Soap Box Poets

Noir
© by Elizabeth Lee

Walking…
in the places where the subway doesn’t stop
Past the broken glass sidewalks 
And ardent alleyway couplings.
Listening…
To the soft staccato of wet stilettos
The street corner preacher
Singing salvation
And the hustlers selling sex and broken watches
In the places where the subway doesn’t stop
Watching...
The rain-shine men and the midnight women
Staggering home from the bars and the strip joints
The notes sliding from the lone kid’s saxophone
Falling
One by one
Like coins into his brown derby hat
In the places where the subway doesn’t stop

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