Ruined By The Rain

Melting snow mixes well with the
dirt on the street creating gray slush
that turn to dark puddles under our
footsteps. Old men drink coffee next to
the restaurant’s large windows and
scan the pages of newspapers that
only exist because of people
like them. Brothers and sisters
carry fat T.V.s out to the curb and
leave them there for the garbage
men to throw into their truck, or
for someone passing by to see
value in it. No one does and it
remains there getting ruined by
the rain, while those that do walk
by struggle to keep their umbrellas
over their heads. Everyone is in debt
to something around here it’s impossible
to exist anymore without it. If they just
spoke with each other they might realize
they aren’t so different and each serve their
own master. Maybe then they wouldn’t have
to pay.