Lonesome Echo-location
The Flaneur haunts the lonely streets but never feels alone
--a noirist baptism of solitude
Urban landscape at crepuscule
The evening falls over the security state complex
The moon it is a boat, my love
A small protest on a warm night,
Helicopters hover like hellish mosquitos
The city shifts into the underworld
At night it's a different world,
The quaint corner coffee house
Has extinguished its lights
A disorienting, puzzling,
sometimes troubling region
sometimes troubling region
It's the Old Oakland Hotel
Contrast between the dark and the light
Plays tricks on the windows of night
A Deconstructionist cafe
The ceiling fans turn in the semi-dark,
The ghost of Ratto's
No Italian fruit bread for you,
All the non-combatants have fled the area
Next?
Even the Mexicali Rose is closed,
Just a private after-hours affair
Too late for the tattoo joint
Comic books made of skin
Hypnotism and nitrous oxide
ATM and smart phone
Attention span, attention span, attention span...
How the cops see themselves,
Followed by grandiose state-funded funerals
The jailers and the bailers
Keep long business hours
Separated at birth
In a black marble void
July-August 2015
No comments:
Post a Comment