LAMBDA 4
Good Morning
Seven fifty-seven in the morning when the jackhammers awaken
and the concrete loud shattering beneath the building across the avenue
filters through the smog and the rushed city people and early morning
workday rejuvenation. The sound waves traverse nineteen flights
of imaginary air into the cracked open window
of this apartment in the reconstructed sky.
A tangle of tanned arms and thighs and rippled torsos we unravel^ squirm,
finally detach from the twin-sized loaded bed wobbling
from its precarious loft to the music of the constructing cranes
and the incessantly jackhammering destruction machines
in this apartment in the sky
(the oxygen situation is dizzying)
at Park Row and Pearl. So we run, us three boys,
through the air to the Chambers Street station.
Empty Starbucks cups and organic cartons of sushi we battle,
splashing through the rain and puddles of STD water
collected on homeless sidewalks
until underground
we go.
We will be back to this apartment in the sky, way down
past Canal Street and Chinatown, after we have
gotten some ecstasy.
Tommy Rimbach