By Amy Fan
Downtown simmers with a heat that can only be described as rage,
on this street named “Flower,” where none grows.
Smog suspended in the sky, fed by factories and automobiles
clouding its tired civilians with a haze of dust, a mask of resignation
as they make their way through the streets
The businessmen with their black suits, now peppered with gray
The homeless men with their carts and sores, pushing along their belongings,
as the stone faced uniforms stand on the corners, with folded arms.
The smoke chokes up our throats as we mutter, scream, cry, fuss
wait for the bus, hail a taxi, rip through a sandwich, piss on the streets
or beg for spare change. Excuse me. Hi, miss. Lo siento, por favor.
Green city placards written in gringo Spanish, dirty newspapers under your feet.
tiny flies buzz in concurrent circles as you drink up
a feeble stream spurting from the rusted fountain.
Crush the syringe beneath your feet and tap the ash away
yet on this block we breathe in unison,
sizzling in the boilerplate of dreams.
Amy Fan is a filmmaker, producer, and writer based in Oakland, California. She self-published her own book, The Sophomore Year Experience, and is currently working on her second book, Fauxster. Keep up with her poetry on Instagram at @fauxsterpoetry.