Remember, We Are Asymmetrical

By 10:00 a.m. the newspapers have become croissants.
Men and women are dressed
head-to-toe in crimson, soft
cloth & drift.

Slowly
add the milk to witness
the gradations of Americano, the
shock & strut of sugar.

This must be what swallowing
the horizon feels like—
the confusion of faucets
engraved

C & F. Outside the avenue flickers
like trumpets while the water towers in
Brooklyn blaze against the green light
of August.