Yellow lines shield the pedestrians from
the cars, the platforms from the subways,
as the gradual glow of a new day with its
you-really-no-you-really-shouldn’t-have
fruit baskets makes the rounds of outpatient
visits. It’s called hope by another name.
It’s still quiet on the porn shoot set. Clear-
cutting eroded the soil past the horizon,
like pounding a bank teller’s glass with
phantom limbs later lost in the machine.

After all that, now it’s time for band
practice? Crap. Computers and humans fall
asleep in the same room, because home
is imagined. A blind taste test compared
microwavable quiche and skiwear. The bird
metaphors read differently in the wake of
avian flu and monogamous penguins living
mostly separate lives. Please be aware that
the images can be assigned wrongly.

Nevertheless, it requires a large window
to view the entire length of intestines in
a single sitting with nerves on end. What’s
the downloadable ring tone for virtual
pneumatics, for hunters and gatherers with
strobe lights? Some winters are colder than
others, however cozy the cuffs and collars
monogrammed in red with the initials eAt.
Delivery drivers riding scooters are creative
with their routes beneath supermarket
billboards advertising envelopes and honey.