August 29, 2013 at 10:03 pm (literature, Poems, poetry, sociology, Stories) (, , , )

At the shiny 8am traffic island,
two freshly employed and eager
young triangular flamingoes arrive
pressed between hardboard, balloons
on their backs announcing deals of the day.

At 5pm, they stuff pale clipped wings
back into hooded jackets and wade
away through pollutant traffic haze,
deflated balloons bobbing, filtering
disappointment through turned down beaks.



  1. annotating60 said,

    I always wondered about those poor guys. What a job. >KB

  2. nobodysreadingme said,

    Pretty good stuff Julia. I love the imagery.

  3. julespaige said,

    Sometimes we must do a job we are not fond of to pay the bills…
    One of my first jobs was working in such a small fast food place that there wasn’t any indoor space for dining. Just pick up…fried or baked chicken…

    Thanks for your visits…I’m attempting to catch up.

  4. john said,

    As always, incredibly imaginative! Lovely…

  5. Holistic Wayfarer said,

    Love the title in relation to the content. 😉 Thanks for the follow, if I haven’t said so.

please feel free to comment on these poems - all feedback appreciated. :)

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