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July 02, 2005
Constance
unemployed and drinking
Pabst in the morning
Taaka in the afterthought
the wife is copying down
recipes
into her little flowered book
I sit here
wondering
if all the new furniture
fits the personnel
slabs of gourmet
and
fine woven threads
shower the dance hall
ignite the lighting
behind columns
and stained glass
the gallery is laid bare
waiting for her dressings
monochromatic rectangles;
images of the world
trapped inside small blocks
we fill the square footage with
comfortable trappings
something to smother
the lesions
gathering amongst my wanderlust
I know that it is only
I
who wear the long face
with each passing train
each hailed cab
each
form of movement
that takes others
onward
another humid afternoon
in the Irish channel
flags lain limp
dogs napping in the recesses
and I
in the dregs of another
worthless day
Posted by Drexler at July 2, 2005 07:56 PM