You count the quarters in your palm at dusk
The iron stairs breathe rust beneath your boots
Each car a confessional of musk
You bless the gridlock with your mute salute
The river smells of diesel and of rain
Your stool holds shapes of twenty years of heat
You've memorized the rhythm of the lane
Where tires hymn on steel in minor key
Fire escape psalm you sing alone
Summer dusk writes verses on the stone
No choir left to carry the refrain
Just you and coins and headlights in the rain
A moth beats wings against the sodium glow
You used to shape the vowels in the nave
Now vowels live in engine coughs below
And every axle sings the note you gave
Fire escape psalm you sing alone
Summer dusk writes verses on the stone
No choir left to carry the refrain
Just you and coins and headlights in the rain
The register tape spools like a scroll
Each receipt a psalm for toll and tire
You tear the strip and let the numbers fall
Paper confetti on the cooling wire
A kid leans out a window hits the horn
Two short blasts a perfect minor third
You raise your hand worn gentle slightly worn
And something holy moves without a word
The sky turns indigo the rush goes thin
You lock the booth and climb the iron flight
Your shadow stretches long where you have been
A cantor leaving service into night
Fire escape psalm you sang alone
Summer dusk wrote verses on the stone
No choir left to carry the refrain
Just you and coins and headlights in the rain
The last quarter catches porch light gold
You hum the tonic walking home
