Specular rain washes the profiles,
charcoal and slate.
The gardener cuts weeds
from ruptures in the sidewalk. Her hair
pulled into a mask of determination,
in itself insufficient, a woman
crosses to avoid the dogs.
A gate clanks. Last night,
a gathering I thought political
was a revival.
My angel spoke
with the attendant
about traffic. So many arrived
so quickly. Andante of china
and glassware, amplified voices.
The denuded avenue buckles.
barking that freezes the heart.