Poem

There would be sleep
deep as cans full of pennies

had not there been
car doors slamming

and alarms loud as
technicolor musicals

early in the morning
just before you hit

the sweet spot of nod
as the last frayed lace breaks

and you rise without shakes
to leave your shoes on the ground

and ease like a foot into a sock
between the layers when

who you see and
what you talk about is
music and nectar,

but someone is angry
and another is sad
while a neighbor stands on his balcony
in his underwear

smoking a cigarette
and glaring at the parking lot below,

a women who cannot stop crying,
a man who cannot fit his key into the passenger door,

decibels that punch you in the chest
you rise with a start.
and put your hand on your heart,

swearing no allegiance,

just swearing.