Cars hum in the frigid air out there.
I'll wait for the spring to come.
Meantime as I gaze at boxes piled on
boxes in this place I call my home,
A place where books pile on books
And records warp under the strain
Of the weight of this air as they turn...
I scroll through channels on a TV
tuned in to the this and that
And that and this like everyone
Eyes half-shut in half-belief of doubt
Driving agog in cars in the frozen air
Each one tuned in to urban overtures
As the next American Civil War plays out.
No comments:
Post a Comment