Stumble

Walking along Harrison Street, at the corner of Union Park
I saw a woman, smooth skirted, carrying her coffee,
stumble
Brick walkways are tricky for pedestrians,
and for a moment she was nothing but a
smudge.
It took her a second, but no longer, to readjust owlish sunglasses,
and tuck a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear.
Slyly,
she wisked herself away, leaving behind a broken Dunkin Donut's cup,
and a stain no worse than those left by drunks who live nearby.
Slowly,
our penetrating summer rain worked to wash away the traces
of her misstep, and all the other foul odors on the
street.
She might as well have walked gracefully by, for all I could see,
she and the street looked the same as before the fall.
Except
for that coffee lid caught in the gutter, and the intermittent
tap of rain on plastic as it stands, stuck, likely there until
September,
when street sweeping starts again and schools are open. Perhaps then
a student pause and pick it up, as children often do,
always
noticing the things we loose or leave behind, and wonder what to do with it.
If someone should notice that last bit of trash, will they say, what a
shame,
that piece of litter on the street?