Street Theater



there were voices

she stood on the sidewalk
brown-eyed, haired, skinned, clothed, shoed
answering them


lighting a stub of a cigarette
she’d picked off the ground
her mouth rounded

thin as rolling paper
she wavered in the Light Rail’s breeze
nearly toppled
but righted
raised her fist
and howled

she cursed the train
the pathetic nub of nicotine
a world long gone to mud
with its muck of formless voices
dogging her unsteady step
her own Sophocratic chorus
for a Greek tragedy of a life

awake, asleep, sober, stoned, adrift
a cacophony only she can hear

all these words
enough to drown in

her rounded mouth
as we watched
and wished the curtain would fall


August 2016
Julie Ayers

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