Unmentionables
So much of city life depends upon
An ability to overlook,
To look past the unmentionables:
The tarry spots of gum
On the cement, so near to one’s toes;
Sirens and yelping brakes,
Two versions of mechanical weeping;
A man curled like a caterpillar
In his sleeping bag, coat over garbage
For a pillow; the near
Death experiences of cyclists at which
They barely flinch.
Learn to distance yourself with, say,
A sweetened coffee
That you swirl in your hand like a cocktail,
An iPod to redesignate
Background noise, and look out on all of it
Your kingdom, your village.
She looks as she is off to a pool party.
ReplyDeleteLOVE: "two versions of mechanical weeping."