Sunday, March 13, 2005

pubwells, preston street

im from lake placid, he tells me

the songs of lucinda williams, i dont
need to be light

last week, they threw handfuls of snow
at matts window after midnight,

& it wasnt matts window

the mornings correct themselves; what then
the light shaves

swat team, house on fire, ambulance; turn off
the front step

half a block, jerry drives

dark glow across the moon, sinking
down these few lines

if you lived here, you would live
in an empty pub

ive been here since 1958; he says
he says he says

when someone asks you what you think
its because

they want to tell you something

whether you want them to or not

a new bottle of jaeger, & then mike
the new bathroom

sleep the canyon of little italy

if only we had nothing left

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