you walk in there, & there’s an alluvial frost;
every time he watched the street-car
his mind scrambles;
relations change with the clanging of the gourd—
color pix show anthropology
eating the sole reviver with
choreographed etic units
... talking there got held in
you know
metal boxes, waiting to be picked up
someone leaned out their driver’s side
window & told her her tire
like her husband’s sentences
was getting flat:
a weaving gradient,
wintry
or a clotted inn group
checking out
robust gruff limp advice
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