last night I slept in my car

and woke with the sun

like a farmer

but that the thin lines of rear-window defroster

were stenciled all over the view.

the world,

at least in this corner,

is still quiet when the sun rises,

quiet over the lawns and over the concrete sidewalks.

the few walkers-by

gave me sideways looks

(really,

they kept those for themselves).

“could he be homeless?”

“a vagrant? a hungover college-boy?”

they ask to each other,

hushed like death in their jogging clothes.

“here?”