poem of the day 02.22.10

sunday morning at
130 bay ridge parkway

sitting in the quiet
as the coffee brews

i hear the ancient chinese bitch next door
banging pots and slamming doors

talking stiff staccato
to her grandchild

the one who sounds
like a pack of elephants
when she runs

soon it’ll be the television
through my walls
for the rest of the day

but sitting here right now

8:20 on a sunday morning

130 bay ridge parkway

it is mostly silent and still

somewhat serene

at the beginning
of another long-ass day
in america