4 to 5 O’CLOCK

I walk

don’t touch my phone

outside the good air 
is an ocean
beyond the fog
life is still a poem
cellulite sky and 
lazy planes 
puddles scar the fields
potholes pock the roads 
people live and die
in rooms 

I march and sway 

pocketing  rosemary 

ignited by the cool bleach air 

of the soft-wash roof-care team 
insulated men wrap hoses 
rich women coax 
their animals  
have you taken down Christmas yet?
kids carrying cases 
trudging semi-autonomous 
I feel them but do they 
feel me 
ageless body walking 

down this opulent Avenue 
warming to the amber glow 
some street lights 
have not lost