“in my dream I was saying terrible things through the people around me.”
a long rev the way to work
hand over the horn
certain someone will hit me
idle the day
adjust my spot
daydream straight wheels
gliding towards family though
let me tell you all the words he knows
Anarchist squirrels free seed from my kind neighbours’ feeder.
The proletarian kit of pigeons are most welcome for this,
as they are for our balconies; our ongoing conversion
of open air to rock face. After bird carnage at city hall, officials
have covered-up the glass walkway with brown paper.
Report: Warhol’s prophetic tweet is inverted heretofore:
In the future everyone will be shamed for fifteen minutes.
Another neighbour kept two brown work-socks
hung all winter. Another neighbour manifests solely
as a cat let out; a cat who makes both mine purr.
When a neighbour leaves our common landlord endeavours
months’ of reno., raising the rent of the free unit
such that every new neighbour is richer than the last.
Out front, a man pulls up with a piece of chalk
snug in a cigarette holder; it must be four.