Hoov’s Market

Poetry

Gray clouds hang low
  over a Southern California morning
neon beer signs blink on
  double doors open to
the homey wealth within

Outside, a boy sits on a bench
  watching the traffic go by
scuffing his combat boots
  against the concrete
where cracks show
  brief sprouting green
and emerging ant hills

Across the street
  girls in leather skirts,
heavy shoes and spiked hair
  giggle as they leap down
to the asphalt
  against the light
clutching books

Inside, music plays
  from a portable radio
the iceboxes hum
  the displays are neatly stacked
along aisles
  Two teenagers
find a morning munchie

The hour is arriving
  they slowly drift away
the boy sits on the bench
  watching the grownups enter
as the morning matures