We awake within a thin state

of dreaming, half there and the other part

opening up with a stretch.

The song of city streets

releases motion.  An early overcast

creates pale chalky grey shadows

onto faces hurrying and stained sidewalks.

A harmonica in apartment 2-B ripens by

the minute.  The sound works to blend

a familiar song; fingers snap to the beat,

someone whistles.

Burnt toast wafts from the kitchen.  A rusty hinge

aches with opening.  Below, a garbage truck

fills up on trash.

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