another Saturday morning in Brooklyn

A burst of bright

Street sweepers collect dust

that resurfaces on someone else’s front steps

Dog barks of boredom

or anxiety (for a walk or breakfast or both)

The traffic announces itself

with

jarring honks

A concert of generations of blasting music

boasting from rushing vehicles

Sirens crash the symphony

Someone’s life is in immediate danger

A sour punch pounces within /

A distrust of the day’s promise

Shut your eyes…

Back to sleep…

Embrace being not.