Bike messengers slash through intersections. Angels walk with malice on the steelwork overhead. Men crooked on their front stoops, Water dirt with garden hoses, Change the siding, their bermudas, undershirt. Children trample Onan's lawn. They all wend down.
Dragons take flight into the disappearing sky.
In a North Umbrian fog of Cigarette smoke, sewer mist, And uilleann pipes. Enveloped by The cuff- cleaned circle Of the bus window You reel once and Your white scarf is set free In a February wind. Watching your second to last chance home. Or a scratchy Coltrane tape to Roll through your shadowed nursery. Upstairs he seems to be listening To top 40 radio for the fiftieth time today.