Walking SOMA 5 in the morning
Dancing too hard makes me feel good
but it’s my karma to stare into the eyes of the crazed
(if only because I give it back).
Turn the corner at the W,
who’s up in New York at this hour?
Praise the advent of 24-hour Starbucks.
Some time later, still caffeinated yet blowzy with Xanax...
Small, beautiful, bright crevice cut into the bruisy cloud
that covers the day. Jesus can arrive through it,
land on one of the new uprushed condo buildings.
Street canyons almost drown out fire engine noise,
sent to put out another condo fire. Condo prices linger
in the netherlands. A condo of the mind.
Four and a half hours of work on holiday,
President’s Day. What I give for my country.
It’s the disruptive life for me. The sky now one perfectly solid bruise,
a complete wound,
bright suture gone. No hope for divine spokesperson at this hour.
Later still...
Postcard stamps now up to 23¢.
