A Tuesday

An open door
Green of day steeps into a grassy aroma
A familial air whizzing through shared city streets

The papers greet a house down the block and
I can’t help but wonder if the news
Has reached them yet:

–The earth is wilting and
It will rain today–

I board the 91
Coffee buzzing in my lungs

–The house we’ve built is wilting and
Wigged men are lining us up–

A workingwoman sits behind me
A toddler bumbling about her lap
She looks past me, but I answer anyway:

“The people are wilting and
Time is sitting still”

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