We trickle in before noon dressed in tie-dye and paisley. Vests fringed with suede ribbons that sway in the breeze. Crazy quilt jeans that accentuate the curve of hip, buttocks, thigh. There are polka dots, feathers, headbands and beads. Bell-bottoms drizzled with bleach to create the illusion of sun-kissed pin stripes. And platform shoes that transform us all—male and female—into stilt walkers trained to reach for the sky.
The operator gives us buckets filled with long-stemmed carnations to sell for a dollar a piece. The tips, he says, are ours to keep. Paired off, we take our positions at curbside locations and wait. All dressed up with nowhere to go. We watch as the stream of motorists honks, slows down, speeds up. Some wave; some whistle; others shake their fists or wag their fingers as they pass us by.
shattered blossoms turning their heads from the light
I am so very excited to have this haibun featured in the first issue of the new online journal, Multiverses, where the talented poet Melissa Allen is serving as haibun editor.