Six-story buildings curve ever so slightly down the cobblestone street,
like a movie with no outcome.
Have we passed this garbage pile, you wonder.
Her silence waits like a banana peel.
You feel the soot-covered men loading coal
in the pit of your stomach.
Repent, they sigh. Backtracking is sacrilege, and
The piss-ant handing out fliers already remembers your face.