the workers,
emptying
out of dark
white vans
start early with
their hammers.
tapping away,
you hear
the slam
of metal ladders
against
the houses.
the gutters
are being replaced.
tiles are
patched on the roof
tops.
they are not tired
yet,
stoked on coffee
and
egg muffins.
their radios
blaring salsa,
still a spring in
their booted
steps, the sun
not quite high
enough to make
them sweat.
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