Good Morning

City birds chirp from electric wires,
diesel engines in small trucks whir,
drivers slam their doors,
the goods they hurl on the pavement,
shaking it, fracturing my dreams,
while the lamp light is still yellow
against the pale white morning sky-
as if everything around me conspires
to push me away from slumber,
from the same pavement,
from the cardboard mat where I lie,
away from the sight of traderes
who want this to be another
good morning.