Poems are images in neighborhoods

a baby is crying
we hear it in the
elevator shaft

one boy is ashamed
the short man takes
a photo a pee

literally the skyline
sunlight sitting on
a bunch of chairs

the pigeon truth,
psychoanalyze the
sure in yes maybe
flying

the moustache
was a yes or no question
his man was bouquet
of strangers

o crosswalk o
safe as clocks
my mother's moon
arms pull me in