There Is Only the Sound of the Steam Escaping

City spreads out with a turned cold shoulder so cold you begin to break apart so empty, heat cannot keep warm the silence so loaded. you go back to the place you remember. you go back to these things that are like wires or gravity pulling , tangling , annoying you go back seeking the inside. Notice how the corners get picked at first somehow I am pressing this through maybe you are reading this you would be the only one surely no one else is left and then in the same way it would be the same road, the same day going to the same place you go to and what ever it is you are doing rite now when you first discover this shriek! so the neighbors know it will have no bearing on me now this is a one way street and I am driving too fast. there is only the sound of the steam escaping the muffled mouth limps away laughing its flat feet one by one advance stamping singing about nothing we are dropped off at the corner. at the best part of the hour inside and underneath, tucked away or in the dryer inside the circle of trees, or underneath the furniture its silent drifting,leaking underwater and overland passing obliquely into neverland.