2/2

On a languid

breeze—I'm half-

time zooming;

sticky, hot and

—loopy 

for the roadside wild-

flower ripples 

of scraggy 

pastel purple 

blushing whitish—swaying candles;

groovy on your birthday.

Tidbits

Discrete and pink-

orange 

piece 

of mango sweetly 

bleeding 

on the cafe sidewalk—

attracts silver hordes 

of warring flies—but goes unnoticed 

by nearby smiling sun-

glasses laughing 

light and eating 

brimming bowls of 

brunch outside—and it seems 

like the more local

their produce gets—the more 

exotic—

describes their garbage.

Gastroenterological Bailout Plan B

Wake up with 

no 

future—

and you'll never

ever

have lunch 

for breakfast again. 

Join, or Die

Quick!—what's more

American?

a chilly white

bowlful

of bright

cherry Jell-O—or

these sorts

of willful

A-B comparisons?

Transit

All along

the wide Dan Ryan—battalions

of proud yellow diggers

brightly gobble the Red Line—

while anonymous

workers

in blue hats lean easy spitting

tobacco

juice in shade—content

just to follow

a plan—

in which

part of erecting

a better tomorrow—

is eager-

ly wrecking a decent one.

Humoresque

Swaying to

absurd

caprices

wrung from

tress—I think I

might like lots

of

kinds

of

very

very different

singing birds—

but there!

Doesn't that

just

sound—?

ridiculous.

Lulls

Citywide—the

lazy

confederations

of fat

July flies—

swooping loosely

through damp

hot gang-

ways

ratify the rainy season.

But you just can't tell

the difference

stuck—

between such

dismal moldy

piles of baked

Chicago brick—is this stiff

and swollen

swelter—the calm

before the storm—or just

the coma

that comes-on after?