Diesel

The sidewalk shivers underneath my soles,

as the engine grumbles in a heavy beat.

The exhaust is thick and filling up the holes

between the brick walls of this narrow street.

The driver swings the heavy metal door,

and a draft of slaughtered birds hits the air.

It’s the smell of the cold on a concrete floor,

a raw, pink scent that shouldn't be there.

The padlock rattles on its iron chain,

clinking rhythmically against the steel.

The metal groans as if it’s feeling pain,

spinning the heavy, grease-slicked wheel.