from the window

i can always tell what’s going on
by the people who walk by
monday morning girls with pink backpacks
and newly braided hair holding daddy’s hand (he walks too fast)
saturday night couples emerge and disappear to sit behind memories
reemerge on sunny sunday mornings
with squinting eyes for walks to the park
remember frolicking in the woods
mark took peyote and the river ran
both directions
but no one believes us
the police came and shut down the street
our first night here
detectives took jay’s cousin in handcuffs
and they had to get a new door
this one was red and sent silent messages
like my father
he never lived anywhere with a view
so he didn’t see it coming
when we tracked brooklyn
through his living room
both of his children
dirty
but far above the sirens
cause we have roof access and know what to do
with it the empire state is red and blue
we are white enough
and the chinese women are invisible under umbrellas
when the sun
drops
hit concrete
this hard
we could all use a little protection
just ask the guy with the sawed-off pool stick
he walks a pitbull on a chain
and whatever he is worried about scares the shit out of me
cause all i have is a notebook and headphones
i don’t know it yet but
we are moving
and north-facing windows will be my new curse
i’ll have gotten rid of the bed bugs
let go of some of the frustration
but there is not enough sun to keep my plants alive
friday nights women walk by
and look good but i can never
judge the weather by what they’re wearing
that’s what the guys on the corner are for
they are surprised that i know the word cabron
and direct it at them
i should go to ginger’s more often
and play pool with lesbian hipsters
i like to let them see me
but i never have enough energy
for small talk
so i head next door and let jovi fix long islands
until the bathroom downstairs
is too far
then i go home