Now, if you want to get privy to it,
then you’ll have to try eating a two
day old baguette by the bandstand,
and contemplating walking seventeen
blocks to buy cut-price tim-tams
because they remind you of the sunset
you shared at the equipoise.
I spent all my money repudiating an
alligator, on negating the unbelievable
idea that things might be better if you
really locked on and started something
together, snapped shut, on point.
Now, in standing at the crossing, outside
the Queen Victoria Building, and feeling so
pedestrian next to a statue, drinking
a pint to save face, mortgaging the present
with the returns of a future you can’t be
sure of – there’s cunningness. Who in their
right mind would use a spittoon?
I held mass by Light Square to make
Einstein proud. It is not just you and
I, but the formicae that wonder if it’s
a generator, or just another piece of
questionable public art.
Now, if you really want to feel it,
you’re going to have to ride with
multi-story grand pronouncements
and tell her: “forget the urban outfitters
wallhanging, i would be the ultimate home
improvement.” cast away the somnambulence
of spring, this trophic man’o’war sky
and learn all about the etymology
of “honeymoon” in the veins above
peat-glistening eyes, the gap between
that Lara Croft crop top and those vintage
tennis shorts, the household products
growing in this field.