NO TIME FOR SERGEANTS
Nor rabbits in the grass, nor tsunamis, nor
anything having to do with reality here. It's
so vast it's all over. The old bookshop has
closed up, and Book Row is gone. Fourth
Avenue has been returned to the buzzards.
-
At St. Marks Place, the guy was buckling
up his filthy pants, having just taken a dump
in the alley. Two cars were trying to park
where neither could fit, and the old Spanish
guy watched from his beach-chair perch just
in the 11th street doorway. On the corner
now, there's a mosque. Two Muslims were
approaching, in matching headsets.
-
Shit fuck Goddamn, I don't know where to
turn. This modern day has different lightbulbs,
and the light just isn't the same.
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