Monday, October 27, 2008

Queen Street.

The woman with the shaved head, black stubble crowning her, laughs spiritfully among her friends as they stroll slowly past the pizzeria. The redhead among them brightens her eyes as she giggles about the new man in her world.

Cannabis sifts through the cool autumn breeze while the Paris Hilton-wannabe, her facial tan showing strain around her eyes, bends over and greets the small terriers held by the unsmiling dude with dreadlocks. Loud jazz from the sex shop storefront behind them leaves the brunette waiting on the corner bopping to the sax. The red streetcar whispers by, drenched leaves cascading in its wake along the blackened tracks.

The punkette on the antique bicycle silently breezes by, her jeans tight against her bottom and pleasantly offering a view of her teen behind. A winsome blonde emerges happily from a gallery clutching a framed painting wrapped in brown paper and tied with string. A pair of women kiss over smokes as they hang out in front of the tattoo parlour. The feral scent of rain and leaves hang in the air.

2 comments:

Shayne said...

that's really lovely honey, great descriptions.

Rogue said...

Thank you, Pixie.

The women in front of the tatto parlour reminded me of you.