Pavement Deposit

Another shift chewed up and spit out.

Walked past the bus stop, no doubt

my shoulders hunched, my mind gone blank.

Then a kid, thin-faced, from the rank

of the disaffected, let it fly.

A thick, wet glob, right from his eye

level, almost, to the concrete gray.

Just missed my worn-out shoe, that spray

of something raw, from somewhere deep.

A small rebellion, while the city sleeps.

Under the orange sodium glow,

it glinted, a brief, ugly show.

Already thinning, a small, sad stain.

Just like everything, washing down the drain.

And I just kept walking.