They stand staring
upper middle-aged in water shoes and cropped sweatpants.
Their faces red from sun and exertion
they climb pale chicken legs up over the levee.
Doe-eyed from a three day tour, their heads swim with Spanish architecture wafting through the marijuana infused air, swollen streets puckered with potholes,
the lingering sounds of an unseen horn playing.
Now they take in the sight
of the waters collecting past the strangled brush
to tell the others
about the city
which is fine to visit
but how can anyone really live there?
They take pictures and smile
stepping slowly back down to the street.
We watch from across the road-Perhaps a cocktail to go?- as an automobile collides with a streetcar.
An elderly man stumbles out and vomits on the neutral ground.