I'm wearing shorts
I walk outside into the spring

Dark shadows of buildings
line the side-walk hall

The melody of tires
skurching along sun-soaked
paint-work streets

Sneakers clack and scrape
rubber like a rhinos’ hide,
vibrations feel out the patterns
in the plopped cold-cement
shuddering in the heel's mane

I breath the sounds, feel the smells
live the people, shouting,
the beautiful subway trains
growl up from their cages
wrapping their molten rusty whales, grappling
around metallic grates that clank and grin

The air swirls away from the baker's lamp
onto my skin, surfing
along acres of silted weeds
avenues mending in between

the gentle traffs down
the smell of blossom wages
love with the scent of street-side
food
ripping concrete, cool as it
kisses the season, refreshing
like the death and feather of a tongue
against a tongue,
living

I could press my body into it
and my atoms would disperse
like the pollen, or a cloud
waiting for the thunder,
or a part, one piece of that cloud
trying to melt into the next
closer

Separated by the whisking
levity of hunger, dancing along,
closer
until the whole world cackles

and the climax gives
me to the grass
dew onto my skin
in the morning