Midday leans hard against the pavement,
light spilling through plane trees and glass.
A man stands still inside the crowd,
thumbs scrolling a small, glowing elsewhere.
Ink climbs his arms like remembered roads,
maps of places he has already been.
Behind him, the city queues for a crossing
four lives paused at the same red breath.
Trams hum their low mechanical prayers,
shops flash promises in clean fonts.
A recycling bin waits patiently,
asking nothing, offering order.
Everyone is here,
yet elsewhere
heads bowed to screens, schedules, hunger,
a message arriving late or too soon.
Swanston Street keeps moving without comment.
It has learned this trick:
how to hold thousands of private moments
inside one ordinary afternoon.
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Good shot! Busy on the phone!
ReplyDeleteM'hauràs d'ensenyar el truc. ;-)
ReplyDeleteSalutacions!
Nice
ReplyDeleteI like your poem - very telling.
ReplyDeleteFine street photo showing the people on the street. Of course there is someone checking their cell phone. That action seems universal these days.
ReplyDelete
ReplyDeleteExcellent street photo!
Ese hombre parece entretenido buscando algo en su celular y apenas si es consciente de todo aquello que le rodea.
ReplyDeleteHe would need to position his mobile phone at eye level rather than lowering his head to look down.
ReplyDeleteAll streets have their tales. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThank you for joining the Wordless Wednesday Blog Hop.
Have a fabulous Wordless Wednesday. ☺
Heads bowed... We may one day recover from the cell phone, but I have my doubts.
ReplyDeleteHe likes beer.
ReplyDeleteIf I had a magic wand I'd make those phones disappear!
ReplyDeleteA good street shot.
ReplyDelete