it’s quiet in the noisy market
as purple kholrabi scream
hot malaysian cashews
chatter with the old
tiny women over
locally grown 
sour cherries
volunteers groan
and shave ice blocks
out the highway moaning
with the muffled shade made
in the noise of the quiet market

early
market morning
with echoes
of harley engines
after the sparkles
comes the rain
new york
sunday morning
crowd
warmly
aware
happy to be out of the rain
under the FDR
express way
to community
communal activity
and the local fixings for an aces dinner

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