Tonight's Poet Corner: Urban Sprawl

Urban Sprawl
by Belinda Roddie

Kept a dirty hacky sack in the pocket
of my jeans. Caught a bus to Smoke Town,
Smog City, purple and greens in every
window, blacks and grays when you step outside.
Managed to sneak a stale hot dog out of

a tiny deli on the street corner and ignored
the howls of an actual dog, and the snarls
of his equally canine-like owner. One had
fur, one wore a stained apron, and both
were foaming at the mouth. Got the idea

to scale the local school and sit on the roof
where I could watch the kids playing
basketball. Gnawed on that dry pork like
it was the only thing keeping me alive. Pulled out
that hacky sack and let it bounce once on my knee
before it dropped to pavement below, narrowly

missing an old lady in a wheelchair as
she pushed herself into oncoming traffic
and miraculously survived.