City Hall Riverside, Ca
I rode my bike downtown today,
passed the court house
and a food truck
thick with smells of hot dogs and grilled onions.
I watched as families circled and swirled
through jail and bail bond doors
Loyal patrons doing their time,
obeying the electric blue sign
OPEN, come in.
A woman sat under city hall,
against her bag and jacket,
and invisible wall.
Her belongings were stacked and dirty, but neatly placed.
She was prepared for a disaster,
an all nighter, or an easy escape.
She wrote diligently on a piece of paper
most prized possessions.
I looked over her shoulder, quickly, and intrusively as I rode by.
Her letters ran together --
blue trees and half moons
Jumbled, cramped, and
running out of room.
like her bottles,
but worth something that
I wanted to read her words.
I wanted to know if they were words.
I wanted to sit next to her and ask if she wanted to be heard,
instead I rode on.
A couple walked by wearing matching soccer jerseys,
and I wondered what
writing woman knew