Berlitz Primer
Subway song.
A light wind-litter-
air-disturbance. Kicked-apart boxes
draped on the backs of shameless
lovers who (try to) sleep there.
A light wind-litter-
air-disturbance. Kicked-apart boxes
draped on the backs of shameless
lovers who (try to) sleep there.
Picture it:
that we could sleep like them,
pull ourselves out from the street
Monday,
and work.
More hands than we might recall.
Money.
Hurrah to that.
It would be shameless.
Evocative.
Unpatriotic.
Furthermore,
the door swings out from its hinge
but you don’t get to say when.
Tag.
Or Tag.
All day.
And you’re following me through
the unfinished subdivision again,
looking for the tools.
Select what you need,
disassemble that,
then we’ll be ready
really ready
for our fate.