I.
our city is a bed
.
a man tries to straighten the wrinkled
sheet of road gives up, sits down,
pans the street for change
.
the apartment building thrusts, phallic,
making love to an empty sky. a burst
of pigeons coo shut up shut up
.
a boy tries to fall asleep. his nightlight
is a myth that burns out once a day
.
the girl walks off her roof
.
.
our city is not a mattress
.
















Comments
--
~
i write. this is what i want.
and sometimes i write lyrics for boy bands.
I congratulate you on your aptitude with words
that picture is great--did you take it?
thanks for sharing, jon.
--
Kilroy was here
and the title sounds like an album title by some low-key indie-folk band. which would be even more bueno!
--
go home, go home.
--
let's go play on a baggage carousel
thanks (:
--
let's go play on a baggage carousel
--
let's go play on a baggage carousel
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