March

Walked around Harvard sq this morning. Sweet on the sound of produce trucks huffing brakes cold men unloading crates of vegetables, bundled up people all holding white cups of coffee in mitten hands, others walking hurriedly down the brick walks their eyes glued to their cell phone screens naked thumbs tapping screens as steam puffed from their lips, smoke steam escaping from grates in the sidewalk screens and building foundations seeming to be waking with the city from dreaming as I am careening down the street a caffeine headache jonesing for the back of the neck a wreck as I make it to 1369 on time for the line is long I sit with my hot tongue sipping dripping the juice inside til I'm beside myself again and then it's time to move on and I can't help but feel a sad song for no reason except the mundane has got a hold of my brain and heart so I watch the produce men with their fruit logo trucks to get stuck outside myself again in the early morning witness of a city waking up to a world rolling along like the sidewalk beneath my feet back to the standing still of suburbs and same as it ever is arguments and my tv shows.