DS Maolalai

And the leaves are green

And the leaves are green.
daylight sinks gradual like a truck
on dead tires. a time for collapse
and shadows, creeping the way
water grows ice out on cold
Christmas days. I am walking,
and a woman is hugging up
her cardigan and standing
outside of the beacon st
homeless house. asks me
politely do I have a cigarette?
I'm sorry, I don't, I tell her, walk
on. and the leaves are green
and moving lazily and dogs under
tables pant in the weight of heat.