Tighten that grip, man.
The one in the blue hardhat
traverses the bald rooftop
he gives the contractor on the ground
the fucking stink eye.

(You’re done for.)

The bleak air whisped around the corner.
I sit in my thoughts, torso in shadow.
My knees are filling with sun, though —
a feeling of polarity; Earth get’s it’s fill.
The Sun’s daily patron.

Two thick-shouldered football players
in orange and blue, of course,
ride in tandem on matching gray vespas,
and abandon two stop signs successively.
A homeless woman rambles on.

After all muh work, all ‘des years,
‘dem boys spit in muh face.

I’m not sure if it was them.
I’m not sure that actually happened.
I’m not sure if she was really there.

Stanley was walked across Main St.
by a fair-skinned nurse in scrubs
(it’s like he was her own father)
A biker whooshed in front of them,
nevermind, hi, how’re yoo?

The biker bolted, looking back.
Was that the wind? I’m over it, already.
Stanley thought nothing of it,
just another one, ramble on, my brother.
A small hot chocolate, clasped in nervous hands.

(Why can’t I control this?)

The nurse cradled his right arm, steady now.
Just let me get to the chair.
A patron, hi, how’re yoo?
I’m great, how are you?
You’re lookin’ mighty fine today.

Now he could breath.
Well, at least I’m doing good, today.
Yes, yes you are Stanley.
I wonder what else we’re doing today?
We just got here, Stanley.

(I know.)

So that’s your body guard?
Another patron, she’s with me, man.
I’m just kidding, you got a grizzly bear.
The nurse laughed, once he said
you want to mess with her, got to mess with me first.

(That’s right.)

The patron sat on a bitter seat.Working this weekend?
Yes. Two jobs, I gotta eat…
You know, a lot of people don’t mind workin’.
I took a vacation once, in ’95, first time in 25 years.
And I was miserable as hell when I came back.

(A ruby bloom; a shaky hand.)