Ode to morning time in PDX

Poetry? Mostly boring if you ask me.

But there it is standing with you most every day. From the moment you wake up and strap shoes to your feet— coffee, bus stop, bus ride, familiar faces, sometimes conversation, sometimes not. Your iPod delivers a beat that shakes you out of your sleepy funk. Down Lombard, right on Greeley, picking up the last of the great minds that make this city tic, toc. Past the Adidas campus, Interstate. Condo skyline. Rose Quarter. Steel Bridge. Train tracks. Ocean bound freighter. Down past the shelter where humbled beings drift awake after a night of torture. Excuse me, this is my stop. Thank the bus driver. Into the crisp morning you go. The neighborhood. Alive.

Past the China shops to the Moroccan coffee house for Italian espresso, Illy’s. Small talk, walk, past more familiar faces. Business suits. Cherry blossoms. Junkies. Elderly tenants smoking in front of single room occupancies. Humans rise from doorways. “Hello.” “Are the streets hot this morning, George?” “Yes.” “No.” “Have a good day. Be safe.”

The smell of human odor and cigarette smoke greet me at the front door. Street Roots. My morning work begins.

Join PoMotion on BookFace

Posted by Israel Bayer