A full day's work Has me feeling exhausted, But as I take hard rights And skirt the uneven pavement I am a machine. I am fused to my seat, And two spinning plates And one fork are Extensions of my will. The nine point five miles Seem so much shorter at night, After the suits have made Their daily rushed exodus, And the streets and avenues sleep, quietly. It rained all day, so the road Is wearing a blanket of diamonds, And the motor oil wrinkles shine. The downpour has filled the world With fragrance, And as I pass through Affluence to arrogance To intolerance to vagrancy On my trek across A divided city I'm overwhelmed. Honeysuckle and lilac Give way to pine and dogwood, Then car exhaust and a polluted river Precede wet garbage, dog **** And marijuana. I saw my first rat in the District tonight. Nine months in, And I've only seen one. It makes me glad I grew up Where I did, Where all you need for A rat in your apartment Is a baseball bat And a Lightning Bolt record. I'm glad I learned how it feels To live with two feet Planted firm to the earth, To feel harsh 1930s sidewalks Haphazardly littered With broken glass Burn my bare feet Every summer, To feel the cool Narragansett Bay sand Sleeping just under the surface, And to feel the sole Of my five year shoe Finally give up. I'm glad I've seen success From the underside, So that when my arthritic hands Finally reach up and grasp it I'll know what to do with it. But mostly I'm glad I get to pull up to my building At ten past midnight, Sweaty and tired, Climb three stories with a Bike on my shoulder, Pet my cat, and crawl into Bed with a warm soul Who was brought up the same, With no clouds For her lovely head To get lost in.