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We talked... Like noises That go away... When lights turn on The stuccoed wallpaper matted my tunnel vision As if i were walking into a canon, to get to the sunrise at the other end Jazz spilled onto the streets and oiled puddles depleted by trampled impatience I paid attention to shoes now... I paid attention to shoes now mostly wet Footprints piled upon each other, and became a linoleum carpet for the pavement Being not invisible , but revleaing nothing We huddled into the corner... and professed our innocence I half expected myself to wake up in a different skin or at least to smell a little different I stayed awake most of the early morning, the dawning sun backlit the sumac bush behind my drawn shade Puling the strings Pulling the string i rose.
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