A mess. Trash everywhere. Broken bottles, crushed Coke cans, old newspapers flying through the air. Street sweepers can’t keep up. Nor can the bum collecting aluminum.
There are pink ribbons wrapped ’round trees. The breeze blows making them fold in the wind. A mural painted on brick. People pass by without looking. Unaware of their surroundings.
Leaves in the street turning brown. Soon a frost will come. Tomatoes rot on the vine.
I am getting older.