Tuesday, February 28, 2017

EARBUDS GUY

Possessed by secret tempos
and surging

like a great hot
chorus through the city,

furtive, urgent-as-lava
though and past

the gaps between
a huddled few,

around
ambling dozens,

beyond mute
fantastic hundreds—yet

desperately dependent
on every last scrap

of their late-
afternoon shadows, positively

lusting
after their unwitting,

their trivial and
haphazard company—like so much

gratuitous roadside litter
with which

to insulate
your warm and private fort.

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