across the street. Half the pressure,

twice the speed. The hard-learned

lesson not every pigeon can

be trusted. Kicking through leaves

November crisp & sneaky sneaks

passing notes. Who wants to pay

for a soda anyway? Misused coffee

cups & the imagined lives of co-workers

a thousand times better than this

ten to six day in day out.

The imagined lives of forties on rooftops

& fingernails flecked with silver

spray paint. As if a photograph could catch

it all or catch anything at all.

Carrying the weight of our costumes

through this downward spiral circle pit.

The frenzied youth smashing

up against one another. Now: counter-

clockwise. Goodbye lovers & haters.

Goodbye New York.

over lost moon,

swoons & so forth

out of the brink,

on the pan

handle dawn

& ample drawn

curtain curtailing

calling all suitors

& adjunct professors

to join the spelling

spilling breeze

& last month’s

discourse

playing plaid

& underused

unpopular patterns

fleeing the market

to ruin my own jokes

& my mother’s

good name

w/ an improper

address

addressed to

no one

but w/ one

hell of a return

metered & passed

into a right past

vision

of a westbound

highway

I flew over

in search of

a runaway

philosophy

in search of

a grasping hand

held device

something to keep

worn on a

winter’s day

snow globe

display

fragile & falling

on the cheap

plaster.