car free day in Kensington Market,

walking out, North of Augusta street
I stopped at the call of two saxophones,
musicians fluted like their instruments,
i watched with a crowd of five the music fading into
the flashing skirt of an asian girl who
had given herself to the saxophones and in doing
swallowed their calls as she swallowed
the dusk with flashing whites of her dark eyes
legs kicking arms beat faster than the notes
faster than the dusk as she spun wildly
then eyes closed, her movements yelps, yips

behind her the street trailed downhill into the dusk
storefronts thick with barbeque smoky
and pressed people crowned with
the flashing legs of capoeira dancers and threads of music
spells of frying meat and fall heat
all parted by those brown arms, thrust upwards
in dancing herself away, dancing the crowd anew and
the saxman had more breath, the meat more flavour
the dusk more attention