Morning bicycle rides through southeast Brooklyn,
On broken concrete and glass
Through old neighborhoods where families reside in the
same old townhouse
older tenement apartments stacked with hipsters already late for the morning commute
The pungent smell of a fish market, butchers down in
Canarsie,
Dirty Remsen Avenue, with fast cars like a highway
but slow street traffic lights
On this street, I bike on the sidewalk,
Thread between students in Charter School Uniforms,
Mothers covering unkempt morning hair with scarves or
Men on morning routes for the electrical company
Fast Food stores already open, always open.
Reaching the corner of Remsen and Farragut,
I am two minutes
late on the dot
Sweaty from the ride
Ready for the breakfast left molding on my kitchen counter.
Daytime is
overworked teachers, social workers, janitors,
And the lilting jangle of Caribbean Accents
Life in not-yet famous parts of Brooklyn
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