I shouldn’t be sitting
lapsing, again
on this bench
but I am – envisioning lazy
Sonia in every woman passing me by
car hiss honk – sketching
birds
in every beige or white
costume;
cool Germanic dawn; bright autobahn
love –
I shouldn’t be drinking this hard
shouldn’t do stuff, but I do – just
bought a Gillan LP for a friend;
but in my head golden heels
& silk trombones
play VU songs
to diameter of afternoon heights
raw heat
ideas
I took some pictures of buildings -
boredom
& filled straw pages
w/ bullshit
only my dog can read; who can order
this? I’ve nothing for the people
in fact it’s not a poem
& it shouldn’t be writing it
but I do; bus
stop high,
every time a beige suit or blouse
pops from inside the tulip museum
opposite my shoe – hanging
on a bell
singing a blues for jesters
busy sunflower bees
laughing at
a retired writer
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