It's warm for December
The song is light,
so I sit on the radiator by the window.
a warming wave down my body.
Weekend escapees return;
I settle on the sill to watch
frenzied holiday shopper rush out,
and relax my back against the wall,
listening.
honking their way into immobility.
I sit as still as the wind tonight.
The dog on the third floor
Above me, a waxing half moon shines
is barking.
over silent scrapers of the sky.
The babies across the courtyard
City-night florescent clouds
are screaming.
float in roasting chestnut scented air.
The sirens on the street
Your piano poem fills the space,
are wailing.
touching an arid town
like birdsong in the desert.
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