Franklin Street

Stained sidewalks,

sprained ankles,

recycling bins the size of sinkholes,

flies, always, in the kitchen,

neighbors studying reiki

and taking their nephew to the Tupac Museum,

neighbors who keep their doors open

and shout in "can I walk the dog?"

because both my feet are in braces,

neighbors who do pilates and love vitamin D

and ask me to hike with them at 6:30 am,

fog,

neighbors who become friends,

friends who bring me mushroom tacos

when I catch covid, though I insist

it's not a bad case.

What I'll remember is this:

it's not the sun,

it's the breeze

that's surprising.