empty streets

the street was mostly empty outside the warehouse,
parking meters painted white
skeletons of bicycles
broken glass,
waiting for you to come out.
five young men walked past and up and across the street
a full beer can arced and thudded on the pavement
before they got in a subaru and drove past me going south.
a civic with a broken muffler drove north very slowly.
a small rat was coming out and going in a hole in an old loading bay door.
finally you came out
and we hugged for not long enough.
i slept through the sunrise but so did you
though you wanted to die inside that warehouse and almost did.
my satisfaction with each sunrise
is just an echo of the joy of the morning you were born and the times when we are good.
i want my love and desire for you to ease the pain enough for you to stay.
please don’t leave

dorm at sunrise
many industrial buildings have been re-purposed as living space for people choosing to live in the city–the former maryland hospital for women is now a maryland institute college of art dormitory)