On a block defined
by high concept design studios,
law firms and and art dealers.
on the fringe between
the Financial District
Chinatown and Broadway,
a familiar elderly
Chinese couple makes
their noontime rounds.
They wear non-matching
nylon windbreakers
and baseball caps.
She's got floral pattern capris
and he's got off brand khakis,
both of them in bargain shoes.
She fishes in the corner trash bin
with chrome salad tongs
retrieving aluminum cans,
hits a lode of half a case
of Diet Coke. unopened.
She passes the cans to him.
He pops the tabs and
pours the soda in the gutter,
scoots the empties back to her.
She smashes them under
her pink and white
generic trainers and
loads them into a recycled
Nordstroms shopping bag.
The gutter flows
with a sweet stream
of artificial flavor.
Ignored by a set
of young professionals
with their twelve o'clock
double shot espressos.
Five minutes, twelve cans,
sixty cents. Lugging bags
up past the sleek reflections
and chic receptions
across Columbus Avenue
to a hot plate walk-up room.
Mark - as always - love your writing!
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