Before Noon
by Eric Blasco
Green canals of trees
guard us above,
as the leaves
reflect light from below.
They know
the ground brought us power
to see and grow,
to walk a straight line,
in this city of 200,000
parking tickets,
fines,
noses picked at—
picket lines of worry across the faces
on all kinds
of skinny-legged people
at tight lipped places.
