Sunrise Two Hours Past Your Apartment Window on Manhattan

All the way down, fog.

Who left the lights on?

How come none of the windows open

on high rises?

Terrible air.  Terrible forced air.  How does your airconditioner work.  The flip top panel was broken when I got here, for the record.

I don't understand how you can concentrate

when twin panes of 1/4" glass are standing in the way

of sticking your head out and screaming good morning

to the streets below.  Nothing but fog all the way down,

they'll hear you if you really open those jaws.

How's the bird cage?  Ten high sky all steely n'at.  There was supposed to be rain.  You promised!  All fog.  All wonderful... stilled rain                 let me out!

On the river the tugboats go.  Bitty bees.  In to and out of the low whales.

All I want is to put my elbows on the sill.

Hang my hands 40 stories up.  A slashing ask, I know.

What is Manhattan if breath is muzzled?

The Protocol

We shall address concerns as they arise.

"And if anyone else has anything to say
now's the fucking time."

Alright, jesus.  I was born with two ears,
not two noses and I can smell you
across the room.

Button that up with acetylene.

Progress

A fire by the river
to keep the mosquitoes away
while we fish the afternoon through.

Have you got a knife?
I left mine back home.

Why have a knife
when you can have knoonorkers?

Have whats?

They can do everything a knife can do and more!
Tech took everything you loved
about your favorite tools and rolled them together.
The burrito of basic tackle box equipment,
never to leave home without.

Have you got one?

No-
but think about it, man.  How great is that.

I think I saw a can lid in the brush
on our way down the gulch.
Watch my rig, would you?

The Stage Moms

I'll talk to you when
you acknowledge
my true name.

Deeprath

Have you ever been to Deeprath?
The origin of your glasses.
The heat behind your furnace?
In Soviet Rush Her
Russia.  I am sorry.

In Deeprath I know your name.
I know your face.  I know the
 color of your tongue and do not know
the color of your eyes outright before
I draw my pistol.   Cue tumbleweed.
Cue music.  Cue horrocity.  Cue shells
captured in the three five seven barrel.

High noon.

Bring a good poncho, my brother.

Have you ever been to Deer Path?

Cut 'em down on the desert sand
somewhere southwest from here.