Somewhere between tragic and heartbreaking
there is light
down the second avenue tunnel
a boy sits organizing papers
beside two men
topless, passed out
half alive or dead
we rush by.
Above ground two give free
newspapers we refuse,
though those two smile
in the rain.
The avenue smells of garbage, restaurant remnants,
late nights begetting early mornings.
A man ties his tie as he hurries
by, another staggers curb to storefront
head hung, heavy,
heavy the air seems today.
A woman walks her son
towards school
holding a teddy bear.
She weaves him between
the staples of this scene—
pigeons coming too close,
streets cracking at the seams.
The school scuffles
with hip high folk
wondering what will come.
Somewhere between tragic and heartbreaking
there is light.