Under Victory Bridge’s stable structure
 -maybe a dozen homeless still awake-
   a horn blew, and a thick black

blanket laid over all the houses
 under repair. Then, on Smith, pizza
  in a storefront window, the live dogs

barking, mouths opening and closing
 like those animated mannequins that dance all night
  in retailers’ windows. For sale,

freshly done hair turned away from the rain,
 the pigeons lined up like the endless phone lines
  and cheap food, the makeshift signs

of secondhand clothes
 and a bag of the famous guy
  while he shelters the doorway of City Hall.