The rain signals the intermission
Not long enough to wipe the slate clean
It won’t reset the clock.
Then wet brakes whining on Augusta chime us back to our seats
Latin beats surf the humidity
carrying joy and warning
pitbulls too hot to bark, grumble in the cheap seats
A beat car chirps at PR’s double parked on california
ah go fuck yourself
pounding on the back door
snapping fire crackers
cans tumble in the alley
teenage girls catawall
and cats squawk
a baby screeches
boys bikes tick a tick
bald tires splash in the alley
water from the broken gutter
tocks against my wall
and a question lilts
3 staccato cracks on Iowa
a final duet
with the human now screaming on the ground.
The curtain calls
but no one is left to take a bow.
In the morning light
church bells call the blind and faithful
and I hear the whisking of a soapy brush
the old Russian scrubs the sidewalk clean
and blood runs brown into the gutter
clearing the stage for tonight’s repeat performance.