Hollywood Trembles on the Verge of Tears

Trying to Get Caught Off Guard Will Never Work Because You’re Trying

Friday night they waited on a storm

that never came. At Flushing and Bedford,

a mangled bike, an ambulance –

the rider, baffled but intact,

stretched out on the sidewalk. Wind blew

heat around. Once home, they clambered

to the roof for higher ground, grew taller

and more vulnerable. To elements.

To beer and cigarettes. Excitement

was in order. But it didn’t come.

They slept, half-clothed, next to each other.

Morning opened with a blousy yawn,

as if a great storm came and swept

clean through their lives, then lifted

up its skirts and moved on to some other

restless neighborhood in Brooklyn.

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