Poet modeling: notes from the dentist’s waiting room

I walk the city in the morning as it’s waking up: shop owners sweeping the sidewalks after the storm, lights coming on in the apartment windows, a million lives to live in the red brick buildings overlooking the city, due west.

Crossing the freeway and the endless rush of progress that sounds like the sea advancing and receding…finding the secret stairwell below the bridge to 5th avenue by the municipal building, a large blue sculpture like logs propped up against each other, an absurd lean-to that’s here just because.

Because art breaks up the monotony of life, breaks up patterns, makes you stop.

The seagulls fly away when I try to catch them with my phone so instead, I stop and write about it and get looks from people on the street. You get looks when you break the pattern.

About pinklightsabre

William Pearse publishes memoir, travel journals, poetry and prose, and lives in the Pacific Northwest.
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5 Responses to Poet modeling: notes from the dentist’s waiting room

  1. ksbeth says:

    you became a piece of performance art.


    • pinklightsabre says:

      It is so nice to hear a real comment from a human being! I’m not sure if others have gotten the same damn spam-a-nator, but I’m being hit by robots communicating crap to me all day long! Thank you for reading my posts this week Beth!


  2. Laura Lynn says:

    I read your posts, too. Don’t feel as if you aren’t read and enjoyed. I’m just a lousy commentator. Commenter? Commentitiously challenged? Damn the robots and full speed ahead!


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