The Street Sweeper

Hose water runs downhill along the gutter. Clumps of leaves divert, creating rivers on the side of the road. The sun shakes light from crosshatching waves on asphalt.

Here comes the street sweeper. South Simcoe Theatre patrons, moving toward the 2 p.m. matinée of the Tom Thompson musical, step aside for the slow contraption. Huge spinning brooms churn dust clouds until they hit mud.

The hose keeps flowing, and the street sweeper makes a mess, rubbing circles of mud across the street. The rivers are gone. In their place: streaked rings, squared footprints, evidence of traffic. The men wipe their dress shoes on the grass. The sweeper turns the corner. The show is starting.