Each Day I Try To Beat The Light

I have beautiful eyes,

some say
the bottom of the sea
is the same color

but they don't work very well:

I cannot see
everything,

this morning
when the light started to crawl
and explode
at the top of the horizon
and into my face
I saw this woman
across the street
walking west on Broadway
maroon bundled in
a parka
with the fur-lined hood pulled
up,

half a block behind her
in front of Peter Luger
is a smaller person
yelling at the woman,
calling her back like a dog

and it is only
when the woman
begins to run
that I am certain
the yelling
does not belong
to the woman’s child
but a vicious little pimp.