on the streets

In our city there are couches on porches
and sloping lawns next to parks.
There are yellow-haired boys
who shoot balls in hoops.
There are many who smile at strangers.
There are old men wandering the streets
and people throwing parties behind gates.
There is frozen yogurt and warm salted pretzels.
In our city, there are women in pajamas
and men who have killed others.
In our city, many feel devoted to others.
There are robins and eggs and rocking chairs.
In our city, there are priests praying
for all the souls in our city.
There are people who feel they don't belong.
There are millions of bricks
and poop flows through pipes.
There are grandmas who bake without measuring.
There are people who love to pull weeds.
There are people who work and are honest
and give to charity and its more than they'd tell you.
There are tinted windows and wedding gowns.
There are people who hate themselves.
There are loyal dogs on chains. The cats are each curious.
In our city, many march toward death with dignity
as shadows rise and fall from west to east.