Published: December 10, 2009

Often I wake

early mornings—crack of dawn

unlatch my window

and watch the shift change:

conveyor belt to breadline

and back again

each morning—crack of dawn

I let my head fall

until the bridge

of my nose is pressed hard

against knuckles and skin

8 million coffee pots, jack hammers,

garbage trucks, street sweepers—

The city is tickled from her stupor

And somewhere in the new sun

the “I” changes

Not ocularis

but me.

Capillaries fill and expand;

I am 20 feet tall,

then a hundred.

I could step down

from my fourth floor window

right onto the pavement

Start ripping the tops

from supermarkets

and punching holes

through bank vaults

gather everything up

in my great big arms;

I feel my great big heart beating wildly.

I’d give it away!

I don’t want any of it!

I’d give it all away!

See if the shift change still happened

each morning—crack of dawn

But I’m stuck,

my body having grown so large

too quickly:

one arm reaches through the door

and down the hall;

the other has punched through the brick

and is now waving at the car wash men down below

and my feet have plowed right through

these cheap tenement walls

all plaster and lathe

and  now occupy

Poor Ms. Lopez’ kitchen;

she attacks them ferociously,

thinking they’ve finally come for her—

Doesn’t much matter

if it’s the devil or the INS

They’ll get you in this life

or the next!