Shakes
hands at death,
or with it,
falling in or
out of love
like a nervous
bird, dogged across the
great cities of the world
or slipped into
the moldering delis of
Manhattan. Epileptic
and panting
looking on
stuck to analyst
chairs with flypaper
slipping the dour
notes of Freud
into their coffee
crying “the Universe
is Expanding!”
