Morning bicycle rides through southeast Brooklyn,
On broken concrete and glass
Through old neighborhoods where the same family lives in the same townhouse
To even older tenement houses now stacked with hipsters already late for the morning commute
The pungent smell of the fish market, the butchers down in Canarsie,
And dirty Remsen Avenue, with its fast cars like a highway
with slow street traffic lights
On this avenue, I bike on the sidewalk,
Threading between students in their Charter School Uniforms,
Mothers covering their unkempt morning hair with scarves & bandanas
Men on morning routes for the electrical company
Fast Food stores already open, always open.
Upon reaching the corner of Remsen and Farragut,
I am two minutes late on the dot
Sweaty from the ride
Ready for breakfast left molding on the kitchen counter.
Daytime is overworked yet cheerful teachers, social workers, janitors,
And the lilting jangle of Caribbean AccentsSuch is life in the Brooklyn that is not-yet famous.