The roofers down the street this morning
stood boldly in their yellow vests
against the clouds that massed around them
saying Welcome to America
while they played
music out of Mexico
on a small machine that made
the time pass quickly. They worked and
drank water and then drank
some more. They worked so fast
the sun
could not keep pace. They bathed
in heat. They stopped for lunch with the most
romantic strains for flavoring
a sandwich. Rest tasted good. Then
the forecast said to prepare
for dark clouds.
For the washes to run along thunder’s path
and the lightning to stamp their papers.
