A New York Street after the rain
yellow cabs swishing as they
take the bejewelled and bedecked
home to suburbia
Steam issuing in a hiss, from
the grid iron drains
create an eerie sound
which permeates the damp air
The heckler staggers home
his words slurred
no rhythm or rhyme
at all in his life
Head down, he turns his
frayed collar up against the
creeping dankness
Neon lights flicker
in rainbow reflection
a contrast to his
monochrome existence
and for a moment
he hesitates in his step
before descending the
cracked concrete steps
to his one roomed
basement apartment