April 2nd, 2004

grandma ryan

(no subject)

on top of the giant

See over there, where the corner of the city
shakes in its sewers and inside the pipes
as the subway passes the middling suburban
tiny trembling homes and houses waiting
patiently as the drivers in traffic will
until they arrive?

He has scratchy nervous fingers
tickling as she passes-
he wishes they would laugh with her
sesitive skin lashing out against
a friendly testing attack, instead
they nervously titter alone
in his pockets, waiting for the appropriate moment
to come out and smoke.

Do you notice the paper mill standing tall
amongth the dwarven folk out there on the outskirts
and wonder who might run the reams in circles to
feed the view from here?
Do not make the same mistake again, you know the spin
swallows itself without each frail word, crafts
demonstration from the steps over running streets
and calms with a footprint.

Hand it to him, he knows to hold on patiently,
twiddle the soft curls of old growth, wait
and stare her down until she is a part of him.
Her curvy roads will crumble and there will be
no repair job- just replace them with hard black
top- her control was in loose maleable rock,
so the plan is to glue it all together
into one long
high way.