It was wet; the sunflower seeds crowded the floor;
For ten minutes I crawled to stalk them.
Later, their dozens lost form,
Cluttered a cappella pellets
The broom swept up.
The converted street is pedestrianized;
The zone is partial to
Temporarily housing people—
Their arms swing and hunch-
Ing their backs—pick up garbage like
Crazies, and they ask to collect change for it.
“If you’re going to call home, do it collect,” she says.
To drift through it is like sailing their waters.
They force you, or you have to hear—
“what’s there?”
-“hum?”
“sugar.”
-“you can taste it?”
Any you can shuffle papers. There is no echo.
Where I choose to sit, I am near two men.
One a prop root, one a pivot.
Pouring saturday,
I was here and
hoping you could explain it to me—
cats
near the register
regorging &
nettling everything.
This post would not be possible if it weren't for the sometimes hilarious, sometimes poetic posts In Palinode's Palace.
posted by hailey