What With The Sound of Sirens

The place
That posits
A realistic tranquility
Has not been written
At least not here
In Brooklyn
In this century
I only say it because
My umbrella is broken
And my hamstring is tight

The sun hits my son
On a sidewalk square
And his mother wears a red coat
And goes to the Unitarian church
In Brooklyn Heights
While I read Balzac
Peddling esoterica
To the androgynous numbers
On Leonard Street

I looked out my window today
And saw parrots in the trees
That had come from Greenwood
Was watched as they feasted
On the strange berries
Green luminescent feathers
I want to say that it was a bit of tranquility
But that would be an exaggeration
What with the sound of sirens