Town

by Margaret Young

Parking lots sparkling with uproarious seagulls

Bars with televisions flickering above heads and glasses

Dolls with arms raised, stacked in tote bins at the daycare center

Trucks shifting gears for the hill after the long stoplight

Attics where piled magazines and mattresses grow mildew

Black asphalt paths scribbled with green maple key calligraphy

Restaurant silverware clinks in dishwashers' clouds of steam

Dollar stores full of lawn furniture, plastic containers, tube socks

Sinks dripping water that leaves a stain shaped like a comet tail

The daycare kids crossing the street, holding a rope like climbers.