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.