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.
1 Comment
