It's noon
and the heat is inconsolable.
Dust conceals the birds in flight.
Car horns are inescapable.
Traffic seems interminable.
Smoke perches like hatred and blame.
Beggars linger like guilt.
Prostitutes on the subway
embrace hour like a lifeline.
Construction workers battle death for a morsel.
**
As you arched your spine
and pushed back your neck,
the light passes through your window
and illuminated the sweat sprawling restlessly on your chest like hasty scribbles.
In this broken world,
I find your ruffled hair fascinating.