breakage
early morning avenues
reveal the fragile-
before they hide away
to their shadows and bleak shelters-
the tourette lady screams out good morning
to the cripples and the homeless,
i can not meet her eyes
ignoring her and them into non existence
i count the concrete cracks
and look away, deaf to her braying-
we are all limping to somewhere else
where we can be alone-
safe and blind from each other
uneasy in this morning twilight
reminding us of our secret fear-
we are all a drop away from breaking…