Sirens and rain greet the night, night that is coming on these days later and later, leading into summer. Swelling gutters feed into driveways and potholes, rainwater seeps into cracks and holes in worn shoes. Horns of trains like whalesong somewhere near, Portland feels like a concert hall. The many homeless shrink up into themselves, into blankets, doorways, closed shelters. Cars are fewer, but faster. The sun sets entirely and the city is bathed in orange streetlamps, white headlights, and red tails. Factories in their never-ending bid keep emitting hisses through to the day, always working, trucks coming and going. Those who walk the reflective streets do so in silence, beneath an umbrella and downward eyes. Bars fill with drunks, homes with families, theaters with audiences, and those left behind still row and sway through the streets.
Created: May 25, 2010Document Media