A fire hydrant
in a cemetery—

observe. And then
nothing to say.

The rubber of thinking
solo so much. The primer

of your hand being
affectionate. The primate

particulars. You eat. I eat.
He eats. OK fragmented

thoughts as if I’m living in
a certain time. A manhole

has text that manifests
as a totem. The ironwork

becomes structure the way
structure should be.

He woke. I woke.
We all woke.