At six in the morning

Sounds of some sad steps, somewhere on the sixth floor

A lot closer, a toilet flash and a baby’s cry

Somebody just slammed a door

So that nothing may be new beneath the sky…

Sleepy walks, shy whistlers, dead traffic lights

Honking horns, sidewalks, some gone astray dew,

A street sweeper smiles as she cleans the sights

Of that old yawning moon…  the day is new…

As I walk alone, carving the streets on my palms

Smelling the fresh fumes and diesel fuel

I feel like laughing and jumping, reciting the Psalms

I wear this city, brothers, this is my jewel…

But as  I move in prayers to start the day afresh

I see the city flowing to wash away my flesh!

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