The ambulance man
he sees me, my northbound bus,
then runs to the west.

Gasoline can, spilled
then righted, five yards away
sunny-hot pavement.

Yes, Lloyd Building,
Yes, Int’nl Teriyaki,
Stay, feeble sunshine!

Five pigeons, rooftop
one does a dance while the rest
perch, vigilant.

Does anybody
think, of this old bench, and its
conversation husks?

“I can’t stand the rain”–
or, for today’s purposes
the gaps in the rain

The engine surges
as it drives the pavement saw
9 am Saturday

Spider, seventh floor
spun its web in a recess
what makes its dinner?

A hard grind ahead
but I’m lying on my back
grateful for no rain.

Waterspout, column
a leak from the overpass
white gold from the sun

The washerwoman’s
cry in her sleep: “She flies!”
…her sole indulgence

“Where are you going?”
He just makes a fishy face
and doesn’t answer

One horrible week
the library’s north window
it’s Sunday again.

Piebald fireplug
flaking yellow over over green
shorter than the weeds.

I punched myself
in the head, last week, both sides
still tender, still sore.

The boy waits his turn,
with a smaller boy, plastic
one wears a red cap.

In the heat I smell
the man knitting a green hat
has not washed today.