Restored Clock Tower Poem by Raj Dronamraju

The city restored the clock tower
Painted the building, changed the faded clock face, drooping hands, and numbers
The city knew the clock tower was one of the few tourist attractions they had

But the city did not restore the area around the clock tower
Where ladies of the evening solicit customers under a ticking tall totem
Throwing shadows on furtive interest talking in low voices

And older men on slim pensions chew on matchsticks
Sit on a nearby stone wall as if they'd been appointed to that as a position
The nearby cascading roar of the pubs measures the lifespan of the between hours drinker

Each action in this area occurs in fits and starts and semi-repeating little rituals
As if all are awaiting the clock tower to shout enough
But its bells have been neutered for years
And at 12 midnight, nothing happens