sirens of the morning

golden evening sun behind cigarette smoke veils,
dry cleaner blows rings beneath his flickering neon sign,
humid box house, hustle pants, shirts, table cloths, dresses,
shouting orders, loud, stop-start languages,
the push-out, the pull-in,
elastics and pins,
fluids and steam,
cash machine drawer hammers
open-shut-open-shut,
take a penny, leave a penny,
bad teeth behind a forced smile,
starched collars, cuffs and dreams,
tough go at $1.50 a shirt,
microwave noodles and a smoke for lunch,
cousin deep in steam, uncle covers the counter,
hauling, pressing, folding, bending,
flattening, de-greasing, un-staining,
lifting, piles and piles of hangers,
throw it up on the rack under paper and plastic,
slap on a ticket,
quick call to the wife at home with the baby,
sweat beads in shop heat,
swinging door bell dings,
next customer in from the street,
10 years from home,
everyday struggle,
but the baby has a doctor and some medicine,
clean clothes and possibilities...
twist the sign, lock the door
beer and late-night TV,
sink into a hard sleep,
until the sirens of the morning.