When the Sun’s Comin’ Up

5:50 on a Thursday morning is not
the liveliest time of the day.
Not a whole lot of people hanging out.
No one’s really got any place to go.

It appears to be the last shift for the cops.
They’re headed back to the station,
blue and red lights flashing.

There’s a weird, white van backing up
to an old warehouse, done shadily and
on the back burner.

Not the kind that one would do
if they were an employee on the clock
with benefits, rules and regulations.

Oh well. I’ll keep goin’
on my way back home.

Should I take a left and head
through the heart of the city?

Zoom past the homeless shelters,
the post office, that sculpture
in front of the fountain that the city
shuts down in the winter.

Take a right and go over the bridge
on Marquette Street. Pass some art studios,
old apartments, two liquor stores
and fuck knows how many churches.

Or maybe go safe and take
the scenic route across the river?

Pass the maples that seem to made out
of concrete but are sticky and sweet.

Pass the brown oaks bombing autos
with acorn mortar blasts.

Pass the Douglas firs standing
with their deciduously erect cones.
Both ways will get me there in roughly
the same amount of time and shape.
It all depends on me and my mood.

But it’s difficult to choose because
it’s summer and the fountain is on.