a little corner of the subway,

writing scribed furiously across the dirty walls.

'peace on earth', 'animals are dying'

plaster the grime in colourful crayon.

leftover from the last decade of peace protests.

flapping leaflets zoom through the windtunnels of trains,

large blue print proclaiming, 'Gore for President' slams itself into your face.

white canines and a large smile make their crumpled way out of the exit.

deflated sound as your feet step onto crushed cans from yesterday's impromptu party.

sprite. coke. pepsi.

it's all there, and a splatter of blood where one youth died last week.

the rusty newspaper stand, slobbered over with white paint, stands in an unwanted corner.

pale grey newspapers slide over the side like drunken children, touching the ground.

they are stained now, splashes of black ink grace the front page, smudged and spotted in some places.

printed on poor quality paper, the kind ideal for cleaning away dirt, much sought-after by the homeless.

confetti has been flung onto the black, grimy concrete.

reminders of some celebration of news that came out last month.

crinkled and fading,

losing their colour,

as the old tramp in the corner sits in a brown heap and watches.

last - next