and holds us almost upright.
Places to pee that were once invisible
now broadcast a signifying putrid cloud
in the doorways of Bergen Street. There's a guy
eating a burrito in a tinfoil wrapper, while
a man sweeps spent MetroCards
from the entryway to the F Train.
Me, I'm dodging kids on scooters.
The heat bends everything,
even the stoop, which appears
to sag under my heavy footsteps
as I come home.