Independence Avenue

one hot day, concrete steaming
on the avenue, and druggies congregating again.

shots fired later, streams of cars following
to the hamburg joint, feelings
evolving, mutating and the
humidity plays off walls,
off windows, the gliding low-riders
grazing the thighs of women
too tough to flinch.

the night begins this way:
police flashers and reminders of beer
flowing through purple veins, making
heads bust wide open as billy-clubs
connect once, twice.

the convenient store’s blown again,
the register disconnected, lying on the tile
floor, the attendant half-way in,
halfway out, the sliding glass
protecting him no more.