touch my skin the warm air soft and light

the crowd howls

keeping a beat for the band

the creativity in the unorderliness is valued here

breathing from the bus drivers blasting their music

hanging their oversized crosses and multicolor signs in their windowshields

all point me to the space

where the

the neatly uniformed bus drivers

and the rules on perfectly cut square laminated paper

placed in perfectly square and clean plastic

ends

tonight the drums begin and the dancer dances up and down as if he were in an open field

our faces break into smiles and we move

from side to side with his jumps

my eyes see as if I were sitting beside the steeple above us tonight

i see it and think of where my migration has brought me

to this swaying crowd

to this city of bright colors and like papermachee

a mix of styles and art

without the perfectly cut plastic protection

– jl

30 Apr This entry was published on April 30, 2011 at 7:09 pm and is filed under Poetry by Jessie. Bookmark the permalink. Follow any comments here with the RSS feed for this post.