| By Mary Stewart |
Belching buses, engines gasping
surfing rhythms of combustion
Fire engines crashing cymbals
flower baskets spill from street lamps
Dappled sunlight, dancing leaf sway.
Crooning buskers serenading.
Curry, incense, body odors
Classic, vintage, gothic fashions
Tattoos, piercings, rainbow hair.
Drumming circle Pritchard Park:
human hive of syncopation
Friday nights at Mela’s Place
they push the tables to the corners;
Latin dancing until two.
All the sexy girls and boys who
sleep till noon and party late
smoke in front of Izzy’s coffee
Eyes at half-mast, faces pasty.
Oolong, dog shit, sweet patchouli
Last night’s seafood bagged in garbage
Poets, artists, street musicians
Hip hop fusion, belly dancers
Skateboards, scooters, unicycles.
Sunday mornings streets are quiet,
yawning open parking spaces.
Pigeons gather, reminiscing.
You might say it’s European:
Paris, Dublin, Zanzibar.
More a village than a city
It’s a human street bazaar.
Mary Stewart, President of Stewart Builders Inc., is a builder, dancer, poet who has been living in WNC for 22 years, currently in a loft in downtown Asheville. She has received awards for her short stories and is currently a member of the Asheville Women’s Poetry Collective.