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.
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