Cowboys and Cobbles

I’m sitting on a three slatted wooden bench watching the cobbled street strollers go by.

Three silk suits, sauntering. All glance left. Cat-walk perfection.

Brown leather shoes and red tartan top, waves his hand and mouths hello.

Red braces holding up dark trousers. Tupperware balanced on his knee. Salad on fork heading into his mustached mouth.

A cowboy. Perfectly curled hat. Clutching tall white leather boots, pink embroidered buffalo-head skulls watch me as he passes by.

On the walk back the red bull rapper hunched and wiry clutching his drink. Tangled blond hair bobs with the beat in his head.

“That you must - launch me out- from the gut…” is all I hear as he strides past.

Angry dandy kicked back, leaning against a wall “fucking c…” he shouts between puffs of his cigarillo.

A man crossing the street falls his arms don’t even raise to catch himself. He pancakes onto the sun warmed tarmac. Three passers by rush to peel him of the road and usher him carefully to the pavement.

I guess lunch break is over.