summer sunday morning

red carnation is electric on blue tiles.
the street sweepers name is rex.
kid dealers must still be asleep.
markets sprayed by that icon.
I remember that grotty guitar shop (rip).
latte lovers creep forever southward.
no one stops to cross the road.
a look in the eyes reveals a tragic night.
you can smell the harbour from here.
sunlight dapples down.
lazy tabloid starers pick a seat ....
on this summer sunday morning.