After the dawn, moon-
white foaming, the lake mist
rolls in—
to power-scrub the skyscrapers
and cleanse the roiled
attitudes of
a million forsaken weekenders.
And soon, gently quickening
through the new
monochrome downtown—here
a mint green
rain boot—there,
the jocular nonchalance
of a miniature pink umbrella,
lifting soiled tensions,
sweetening
the savory
tang of wet asphalt,
making, in the vague
mind of the multitude, a Monday
morning possible.
