devotions

The knot of attention is undone
by rampant sleeplessness
The curve of intent is fiddled
with, gone loopy, swooping
colors bounding and
bouncing off the sidewalk.
the chatter no longer crisp
as a self-evident smile
but dolloped in crustaceous wisps
knocking against my sidewalk table.

When does the beauty start, I wonder.
Can't waste this sunny afternoon
stolen from the IRS and other
landlords of my life. When does this day
get designed? can't we have
a deco border, a nouveau curlicue
edging through the high haze
and bus noise?

Just these radio station t-shirts,
old folks ambling in canary
and fuchsia sports coordinates,
junior high girls tanning
their winter white knees,
Doctors with their ties,
nurses with their grievances.

Shoe Inn, Foto Hut, Drawers,
Elegant Styles, Footers.
Babies dripping ice cream, cars
coughing poison, birds
on the captive trees.

At last a florescent green drink
bubbling on another table.
But it's not enough.
This day refuses to be defined
beyond the worn ordinariness,
the haze floating between the sun
and the leggy sidewalk,
the concrete amnesia.

1993