a statue of
Gandhi is perched
on a concrete slab
covered in
bird excrement
listening to
distant
guitars

the
smell
of citrus
from
the
nearby
farmer’s
market
permeates
the
air

a man approaches
me for a loose
cigarette
I comply
and he offers
me five dollars
I take two
and he disappears
down the avenue
in a cloud
of menthol
smoke

postcards
on
wire racks
line
the tents
four dollars’
worth of
interior
decorating
later
I take my
thick
paper bag
down
to
the
corner

where
people
are
signing
petitions
to legalize
marijuana,
joints going
around
and women
baring their
tits for
no good
reason
at all

Gandhi
smiles his
eternal
smile,
starving
there
at
the
southwest
corner
of
Union
Square
surrounded
by pigeons,
bums,
criminals,
stockbrokers,
punks,
hippies
and
the
exhaust
of
cars
that
are
headed
no where

Kevin Ridgeway is a writer from Southern California, where he resides in a shady bungalow with his girlfriend and their one-eyed cat.  Recent work has appeared in Underground Voices,Gutter Eloquence Magazine, Crack the Spine, and Pipe Dream.  Mr. Ridgeway’s chapbookBurn through Today is now available from Flutter Press.