Brick City

Brick City

There, up ahead,
a man pats an empty plastic bag, like a tambourine.
He shakes his head, side to side,
to side,
eyes glazed, marbled, cold.
Loosies, loosies, loosies,
the street sings.
Baby turtles scratch their plastic cages with tiny nails,
pawing furiously.
Loosies!
Shake your head, eyes to laces.
Add a brick.
Clickity-clack.
Clickity.
Clack.
Down the block, dark, hairy legs,
bowed out, ostrich-like.
Large calves, in a ruby-red skirt,
high-heels,
lumbering.
Loosies!
No, no, shake your head,
turn the music up.
Add a brick.
Shaggy! Shaggy!
Yeah you, you Scooby-doo,
mutha’ fucka’!
Add a brick.
Under the old RKO theater
small cherubs, open-mouthed, wide-eyed,
look down on the city.
Burned out windows,
pigeon shit,
sneaker shops,
below.
Prayer begins, the sirens shake pavement.
So many bricks,
so few buildings.