The Tunnels On Elizabeth Street

The tunnels on Elizabeth street. Working for 20 hours straight, feet in pain, body bruised, hands cut up, shoes ruined the rest of New York will never see the early blue morning walking homes cause the cabs are not in service, buses are but not enough change behind the deck of labor I crush trash as the rest of the east village tips me in pity, and yet put me in my place this is adulthood, choosing labor to forget leisure weekends its cold early in the morning when I walk through the tunnels where the homeless sleep on Elizabeth street the cardboard forts that capture the loss of hope cautious the tunnels are in the early blue mornings, in my ruined shoes I walk them.