I AM ALL OUT OF TUNE


You awake in your sundry amplitudes, alive
to the sense you slept through another magnanimous opera

with all the bending floor lamps

and strangers passing on through

Your headlights come in through the window,
one insinuated feline growling like a compass that has lost all purpose

So how is it now that you are capsizing
through another new compress with mouthwash and Dial soap

(your passport stamped dissident)

Where is the steam upon the streets of London

It's replaced with hand sanitizer wall hangings

Enter: scribe with headache but proper travel documentation

I think I'd better live home