Tuesday, March 8, 2011

2078. THIS HEAP (a Dalliance)

THIS HEAP
Does anyone know where the ramps are kept,
the rages, the ridges, the foils of this life? Man juggling
fenceposts on the opposite corner from me; watch him
move, struggling free. Behind him, two cats on a ledge,
tails curled like lions, just staring. Outside of that, nothing.
-
Outside of that, nothing? The mailbox, where the two
Chinese guys just dropped their notes. They are both
walking, with maps, referring. One dangles a small
camera from a small neck. He wears an ill-fitting
carcoat I've never seen before. Talk is cheap. He talks.
-
He talks? Says something about something.
Call that talk? Talk is cheap. Outside of that, nothing.

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