Lunchtime

Descending.
Ding.
Doors swoosh open.
More doors then
sunlight dappled bricks.
"Where to?"
"Don't care.
Let's just walk."
People
in groups,
singly,
stride purposefully or
simply stroll.
Snatches of conversation
fade in and out.
"..got fired!"
"Can't believe it's still so cool..."
"..middle of June.."
"...out today, camp starts next week."
"Lend a hand?"
The last from a grungy homeless man,
not one of the regulars on this block.
Do the homeless
ever take a vacation?
Look for better spots?
A jingle of coins.
"Thank you."
The hotdog vendor looks hopeful.
A firetruck squeezes by
ambulance following,
sirens on.
Flashing red hand
we cross anyway with the throng.
Eyes meet
a flash, is that...?
No.
Couldn't be.
Inside,
order's placed.
Numbers called
...49...52...65...54
But not 53.
Finally!
This side of the street
it's just moms with strollers,
or leashes
on their children.
Juice spills,
wails,
tears,
consolations.
Firetruck.
Ambulance.
Stretcher.
Diatonic cacophany.
Sunlight dappled bricks.
Doors and more doors.
Ascending.
Ding.