Contributor: Mark Tulin

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Under the elevated train,
surrounded by steel girders
and screeching wheels,
cold water drops
down from the rafters
onto my head.

I never complain.
I never cry.
I bathe in the water,
feeling blessed
by the abandoned angels
above the dark red sky.

I watch the traffic lights
that never change.
Traffic lights
that flicker and sway
with the wind
and rain.

I hear bruised women cry,
mistreated like barking dogs.
Johns with black eyes,
getting rolled by pimps
in dark alleyways.

I feel another raindrop on my dusty pate
as I hear the rumble of a passing train.
I know my life is how it’s supposed to be.
I’ve come to accept this plight
as I take a drag from my last cigarette.


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Mark Tulin is a poet and short story writer from Santa Barbara, California. He’s published in Friday Flash Fiction, Vita Brevis, smokebox, Page and Spine, and Fiction on the Web. His poetry chapbook is called, Magical Yogis, and his website is Crow On The Wire.