'we can change reality just by the way we look at it’ science says
what sort of city lies bottomless, when
in our minds there’s no way to keep
the balance, we stumble because what
sort of city life picks up broken men, then
finds dirt behind furniture
day after day, week after week
what sort of city refuses to say good bye,
after seeing the great exit door close, never again
to open when the sort of women behind it grab love
w/ out warrant or permission
running out of breath, long
before discovering
few men surrender, very few
tho we see spring stitched on socks,
on determined gals’ excited faces,
on the way their hair shines, and
on fresh cotton clothes
ash wednesday is spotless
but not until thursday, will
she remember walking into the
church, scrounging for yesterday’s
leftover ash