Jake's Flea Market

at five hundred hours   maybe six
the streets through july are still   partially shaded
from the midtown sun by the overnight dark

into those streets comes
the ambulance in its   kitten skinned coat

its eyes flash like emergencies

it mews and a siren cries
at one of the fourplex doors
where with kitten claws its knock
scrapes down the weathered tin

the ambulance is the patient

the patient is three months   maybe four

the patient is hunger