Early Morning

Hey everyone! I'm looking forward to seeing how this 30/30 thing goes. Here's attempt #1:



The sun doesn't come up when you're smoking
on your front porch at 6 in the morning.
Instead the houses, which arch over you
like spectators on the scene of a car crash,
grow thin dirty halos. Daylight is of
these halos somehow, the way a cluster of cells
is of an infant but not yet infant.
It doesn't grow if you look right at it,
but you look down at the dark spot
where your shoes are, and by the time you look up,
the houses' halos have almost reached each other,
their asphalt grey giving way to brighter rind,
and it is almost bright enough to clearly
see your shoes and there are sudden people walking
to the bus stop and cars stopping at the block's stop sign
and you now realize how tired you are and take
one last drag of filter, unlock the door, and go to bed.