“Rage”
Thunder cloud of hate
darkening equal rights hope.
Rage against the night.
Steve D

An easy morning,
seemingly random city,
haphazard hang-out.
Steve D
Try to figure how
to say professionally:
You’re doing it wrong.
Every ten paces
new porches, alleys, fences.
Doors to other lives.
Steve D
A piece of the pie,
a space in a crowded bed,
or sometimes, a cold.
Steve D
Walking, strollering,
to find animals and hope,
that one says hello.
Steve D
Opportunity,
face-to-face conversations
like Teams with handshakes.
Steve D
Rusted ruddy shell,
nearly lost in an old shed,
yet the motor roars.
Steve D
Little lives criss-crossed,
sharing histories unknown,
legacy friendships.
Steve D
Peruse neighborhoods,
each home a potential life,
a forever place.
Steve D