Intentions unspecified, he glanced somehow
with approvingly familiarity over the alley,
entered and began a silent study of the faces on the street.

Moving past a tall guy with a dirty beard
and a wrinkled face with strong spirit smell, he grinned.
It was like looking at his own reflection.

Then he stared in silent amusement at the round figure
in dark green coat and striped man’s trousers, no shoes,
a flabby woman of medium height,

Short dirty hair, thick eyebrows,
a slim scar from mouth to chin on a face
that otherwise was undistinguished as a peeled potato.

He smirked and pushed further
to stop at a door that opened to spit a girl
attired in a black long dress holding a thick rolled mooster.

The girl stood her back on the wall,
studied the glowing tip of her smoke
to let the smell of weed to take over the alley.

“Last time we had the pleasure,” she said,
“was long time ago. I still remember you.”
He glanced at his wrist watch and said, “I was drunk.”

She shrugged, then she stood away from the wall
moved to the door, entered and closed behind her
leaving the memory of her smell in the alley.

Having reached no conclusion of the conversation
he moved further to find another door,
perhaps the liquor store,

the footfalls, the mysterious prowlers
of his addictions that can give him
another turn with the girl that smoked.