LATE

(a strange little lyric scribbled after being up all night in San Diego)


Turns out
I share a birthday with Duncan’s mom
—a discovery made
two days
too late

Eight
is the cruellest time
to be awake—your job is finished
The Kinko’s song
cycle repeats

You haven’t seen the indifference of nature until you’ve been pegged in the forehead by a pigeon diving to follow its cohorts to the hot spot in the parking lot while you move to evade the suits beelining for the recycled air of their offices, oblivious as you stagger, catch your ass on a hydrant and just avoid tumbling into the street, winking under the trickle of blood and thinkng that your meter must have run out and you don’t have any insurance.

But what’s
nature?
you ask

(my lost, longed-
after and deeply
imperfect darling)

on the bus, the only place
you can’t see

the ad
in which

none of this occurs.