What Is Warm (Should at times be cold)

The detroit sky spilling january birds
Above the broken windows of sullen
Buildings. Morning lights, The Lodge's
Downtown coke bottle curves - glittering
On in the murky dawn as solemn men
Sip coffee and make their way to work.
The city sleeps, the wintery creep
Of frost on windows has bound men
Behind their thoughts and pains.

I walk the streets alone through the
Summer's thronged memories of
Greektown ghosts. The buskers,
Street aritsts, rikshaws and hustlers
Wait out the season's barren time,
And I wonder, alone on Beaubien,
Drinking in the igniting neon signs,
Why birds still haunt the frigid sky
Instead of departing to warmer climes.

If I had wings this is still where I'd be,
Sitting in harmonie park scribbling
Poems in my lyrical ledgers. At Hart
Plaza reading old love letters to the
Slow blue flicker of dawn on the river.
A man awake in a comatose city with
Only my reflection to keep company.
Because I believe in the seasons of souls
And what is warm, should at times be cold.