Can I wash your window for a dollar?
Hey Mr. Windshield Washer Man
waiting by the gas pump
hoping that murder of black birds
will drop you a black feather
Looking for magic
on the cracks in the sidewalk
in Victorian nooks and pee corners
stuck under random bar tables
Special moments crop up
(like that special item you find
in a sidewalk free box)
to turn into gifts of sunshine
Sunny Mission wash muraled over
caught at a certain angle
opening rainbows into one-kind cultura
we sing similar beats
Our hearts pump the same clave
while hands meet tomorrow
on many levels of bounty
welcomed in the quiet spaces of now