we’ll be first.
wait for a slow walk
to wind its way
through the trees,
a mystery of heat.
the border of the apartment
at the open window
smells and acts like over
the boundary is warped
from sun exposure
i lean in , nose into it to check

we consider for a minute
but move on to something else
not sure what to call it
something here
feels habitual

the alienated wonder of what one is to do
when the clichés fit
and the profundity does not suffice
enter:
another chewed up pencil
another five minute nap in an office chair
another borrowed fax another fake hello
another greeting with stained teeth
another meeting more slides and more
each promising it it will be the immovable object
the thought is fixed and becomes truth
sadly this is not the case
young golf shirted white men
laugh and
the tweed jacket types (patches and all)
rub their chins as their girlfriends give any observers a
show with a worried look and an arm grab
as usual
it all hinges on the turnout

and it’s only late evening here
but there’s always a spin from the other side
and a drunk yelling
always makes sense
to the ears of the room
it’s gonna be a close one
it’s going to take a while to figure out what we’ve said
what did we expect?
when we’ve fed the projections
and the polls
gone to the booths split
spilt
letting another typo decide the fate of the nation

and i’ve left myself these dreams
and I waste one a night
it’s sweet background music for wasted plans
but they’ve taken a backseat
to dented cans
staring at me from the kitchen counter
what i’ve allowed myself
only what is required
they’re different versions
of different thoughts
the live one backspaced over
fixed
there’s always one more voice than I counted on

The heat.
The buildings make
the shade and the shade
makes a public
space possible
