Dodging drops on a long-legged stretch up rain glazed East Avenue, skipping over cracked horse chestnuts and acorn tops scattered among pink and gold leaves and striped mud puddles.
Skipping watered circles and around brightly yellowed gas line caps, the work day scaled off my neck, drowned in a puddle somewhere down on University Avenue.
Appled cascade of ripened fruit and a rainy evening with Latin jazz and tender toes. An evening’s perfection…
690 Saint Paul 