commute

The sun feels good on my back when I
walk down Washington Boulevard,

past LA Mart, Grand Station, LA Trade Tech, St. Francis,

the de facto street-corner snack shops
(candy and chips and cel phone cases on wire racks),

the carts piled with peeled mango, pineapple,
cucumber, lime, salt and chile to make coctel de frutas.

Litter flutters in the street as people
hurry to the platform, to the bus stop, to the next block,

black metal bars stand between passers-by and
store fronts long abandoned and still empty,

there are people wearing tired clothes over exhausted bodies
sitting along the cracked concrete sidewalk
who will meet my eyes, say good morning, sometimes smile.

My morning commute is beautiful.