the bouncing soles of the air I wear cushion me
over the orange, herring bone street
but cannot resist the insecticidal compulsion
of the green and white purgatory
where the neatly stacked wash of fluorescence
makes oven ready your heaven
amid the threnodial thrum of
a hundred syncopated Siemens
but today the doctor digs in his heels
and I invoke my sanity clause,
that get the fuck out of Dodge joker,
my salvation from the bourgeois diversion
we’ve come to call living
thus withdrawn I wait to emerge
into the moist blanket of a fresher dawn
that bears a promise of littoral warmth
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