Written by: Dort James

on confessional summer streets of city
the heat scums in like a churlish treacle
in back of the five and dime bodies drift by
cotton barely captures their hides of leather
mock they come feasting their eyes the uninspired the unenjoyed
skin like twined roe on inelegant hilltables of humping asphalt
the fullstomached and the barrenous
the stubblegaited and released obese
the adolescent chics swaddled in microshortshorts and sons and
daughters of their own walk on
sidewalks clotted with dirge
dry bubblegum bandages
and weeping condoms caked with sad and
botched hotdog stands and others hold hands

watching over out back of the fiveandime
clouds scuff in like oldtime washerwomen
scrubbing the spanknew parking meters
and all the cops are at the donut shops
notary publics down to the liquorstore
picking up twofours and molls awol from the junior high
and cocksure dudes drabbed in deadlettered sweatpants
cruising spineblown bars for commandment cheaters
in lunging games of catchascatchcan and
on Church Street
one young woman smiling arm in arm
with an elder mother set as a seal upon her heart
and all my transepts spires and bells