Cloth swims through
gasoline and fried chicken air
over broken front teeth,
of a wooden fence
buildings eye each other,
black hole windows
mad dogging
across parking lots
now comes a jester
dressed in red and yellow,
racing wind
stoplight to street sign
to eye bruising slushie pix.
clock work against
Brownian drifts of plastic bag ghosts
and diesel
"why he dancing
daddy?"
Why indeed.
1 comment:
Thought of this poem yesterday as we drove home through the intersection of Down and Out (Rundburg and Lamar). Saw a guy warming up.
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