Poem in the Manner of Morgan Parker
What do you think is wrong
with this lady on the F train
trying to sit down every time
we come to a stop she seems fine
maybe lazy no one really
wants to stand or is it spiritual
her unease I think yes whatever
is the soul’s unease is she and I
look down from a great height
like Radiohead looks down on us
something inside me wants to burst
out and preside and bang a gavel
something inside me also is made
of wine an ocean of wine
on which an even smaller part of me sails
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