A Run

My rubber shoes shatter puddle after puddle, each painted with September clouds.
In the window of my deseased neighbors house, a faded piece of orange card paper boasts "I am a winner." His house is empty and dim.
Across the alley, two adults dressed in walmart jeans and rummage sale tops speak about politics.
A high school boy carries his head low and hides in black appearal as he walks his bike up the steep hill.
Down the street, a slim poplar stands shyly next to the sidewalk; she dresses in shades of yellow.
Street lights flicker to a glow as i round the corner to my house.
My mother can be seen on the phone through the glass.
Tomorrow my baby cousin turns eleven.
I slow down and stop.