Cats cry in the alley. An old drunk stumbles home. Trashcans overflow. Neon lights in widows blink. Meters expired.

I sit in my window frame, watching night pass into morn. Slowly, streetlights fade as the sun comes over dark clouds; purple and orange skies like rainbow sherbet begin to melt.

An ambulance runs down Clark Street; firetruck follows. Sirens sing out. Jimmy Smith plays the Hammond B3 on the radio.

My day begins.