(Linden Blvd, In East New York, Brooklyn)

As the sun paints on its never ending blue back grounded canvas with beautiful pinks, purples, and oranges as it does every night before it's bedtime, I cringe. Good Night sun, your bed time comes entirely too early. You tuck yourself in for bed and disappear behind the horizon. Beautiful, they say. Beautiful; I disagree,

Because the thought of you evokes fear in little girls who realized that the boogie man was real; since the first day that their daddy tip toed into their bed rooms to burglarize them of their innocence and borrow their hopes with no intention of returning them. He'd replace their dreams with nightmares. They pray for your return and eventually you come back, but you play with the strings to those little girls' hearts. Peek-a-boo, a game they enjoyed as toddlers, they'd rather not play with you. Stay they beg you, until you disappear behind the horizon once again. Your bed time is entirely too early, and your absence is way too long.

Sunset, beauty they see, beauty, I disagree. Sun, you treat us like the New Guy in the NBA, You sleep on us, but Dwight Howard is proof that you shouldn't, because while your sleeping all kinds of things are being missed. Like misplaced mothers on street corners and in crack houses. Misplaced fathers who promised not to work late, and he kept that promise only to cheat on mommy, which means in the years to come I'll be choosing between Christmas at moms and Thanksgiving at Dad's or vice versa. Sunset..... Beautiful, you are not.

You hide, and like roaches in project buildings, the corner boys come out. They roll blunts, beginners at origami, they only learned one shape, and perfected 4 moves. "Open, empty, fold, roll". I see more art in their technique then I see in your disappearing acts.

The Sun Sets and Its Beauty they see; Beauty......I Disagree.