A Portrait of Seattle's Pioneer Square

 


The cobbled stone street carried rain

into the gutter. Occasionally a wheel

splashed some of it against the buildings.

Drops that hadn’t found a crack

slipped into the storm drain 

and headed out to sea.

“Bad weather doesn’t keep people off the streets

in these parts.” commented a cabby to his fare

just as the weather broke.


A large plate glass window, retail shop marvel of the

late 1800’s, refracted a neon sign’s light and

mixed its message with the reflections of late afternoon.

Inside, a restaurant, with a waiter 

looking of a time when these surroundings were new.

And yet, the years of weathering had fooled

the average viewer into seeing him as they saw

the street scene outside.

However, despite his facial cracks, 

that man was full of life.

On inspired nights, he sang and played the accordion;

 juggled glasses and bottles;

and made up rhymes.

“Fat fifths.” muddled a customer

as a ferry boat blew a wall of sound from its whistle

against the spectral explosion of the sunset

and seemed to shake everything -

even though it didn’t.


“Let me off here, Stella.”

“Here?”; “Yeah.”

“...eeeeehhh...” squealed a wheel;

“Thanks”

“By Gus, have a good time.”

“O.k., see ya tomorrow.”

“Kumpkcah” sounded the closing cab door.


Wooden clogs beating bricks;

 Jazz horn rhythm section

nine less six;

Five dollar cover charge,

Rhythm and Blues;

flirtations and dancing,

libations and prancing;

and yummy - food, food, food.


From all directions people came

and went,

but for hours - the size of the crowds

stayed the same; ‘till finally

the last neon light,

the last horn,

the last memories of that night,

faded into twilight.


© 2000 Gus More

All rights reserved

https://www.patreon.com/gusmore

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