and life in some town
in the countryside
is nothing to this:
waking each morning
with my wide open
window, and trucks
beating jazz drums
on the street
underneath. bins

being emptied.
people walking
on pavements
steady-pacing
one direction
ever downward –
like a river
by a logging camp
sending pine
toward the sea.

drinking coffee
on the balcony,
looking at the river
and a woman
on her balcony,
looking out
at the river.

the diluted
red light
as it falls
between buildings
like red coins
being entered
in a vending
machine slot.