Bowery Afternoon
By Lola Ridge
Drab discoloration
Of faces, faades, pawn-shops,
Second-hand clothing,
Smoky and fly-blown glass of lunch-rooms,
Odors of rancid life...
Deadly uniformity
Of eyes and windows
Alike devoid of light...
Holes wherein life scratches -
Mangy life
Nosing to the gutter's end...
Show-rooms and mimic pillars
Flaunting out of their gaudy vestibules
Bosoms and posturing thighs...
Over all the Elevated
Droning like a bloated fly.