Saturday Morning

 
“BANG!”, as the metal door was slammed, not sleek
The steps of dirty Reeboks emerge on concrete
Walking down any street, looking left and right
Cars come in heat, day and night
Everybody looks, everybody stares
Yellow, red, and black eyes, some without a pair
Screaming and shouting, feels like home
My fine Saturday Morning, just walking and feeling the warm tone
Going up the stairs of the broken bridge with broken glass from crack pipes and beer bottles
Sitting on those same cement stairs, and staring at the sunrise’s beauty like Anok Yai or other black models
Once I’m done inhaling the breeze that fills my neighborhood from the trees
I head down those stairs to start walking again as the food trucks near me tease
Dirty Reeboks emerge from the concrete to the doormat
“BANG!”, as the metal door is slammed again, and the sun just sat

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(Featured image from Pexels)