Walk on 59th

Anxious cries from a two year old as I slip on her metallic sandals.

Creaking from the white patio door. Faint hum from heat on the sidewalk.

Stroller traveling over loose gravel.

Light shimmers from the ground, the beer bottle glass looks like a mosaic.

Dusty alley with an orphaned over stuffed chair.

Subtle bass sounds grow louder, from a passing car in need of new speakers.

Black wrought iron fence makes a home look like a prison.

A novelty horn is honking with promises of elote y raspados.

The shade from the car port is welcoming, so are the colorful jars above the mailbox.

I'm home.