At night, garages close.
their attendants gone to Bay
Shore. Beggars in their shelters summa
them are mothers.

All are daughters, sons.
Broken, tears long dry.
Caked with streets
many times over.

Expectations!
Long ago there became none.

The city heaves.
Too dry. Too brittle.
It’s 7x7x7x7…
by too many.

But dreams,
they know no ending.
For even those
who should have none,
know that only this heartful little City
still offers maybe one.

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