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1
One
moment
he was
leaning
on a wall.
The next
he was
wondering
why
a wall,
and not
a tree.
2
He always introduced her
only by her first name.
Similarly, in the park,
she received shy glances
from the statues
of lesser known heroes.
3
Is suicide a solution?
inquired the fly,
goose-stepping
through the burning ruins
of a French village.
4
He used a camera
like a typewriter,
the page in front of him
covered with blood.
5
You see her sometimes
on the boulevard
of strip malls
and chain motels
dressed all in black
like a crow
or a sad country.
6
The troops burst from the trenches.
The audience applauded,
her last name of no concern to anyone.
7
Some remember
additional symptoms
roaming the streets
armed.
Others say
it never happened,
only stricken
breath condensing
on windows
like the banditry
of evening.
8
They fell asleep side by side
on a bed of curled pencil shavings.
For long moments at a time,
the bicycle wheel ceased to stammer.
9
Attempts to contact
the dead with eyes
half-shut cannot
explain the sparks
and the darkness.
10
Then snow began to fall,
ringing cowbells slowly,
oh, so slowly, as if unsure
that it should.
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