Center Path

I thought I'd try walking the Center Path, but discovered I'd already stepped off the curb. A swim in traffic before a breath confirming the assistance of the benign intersection signal, my foot jumped ahead of my brain. Angry cabs, old-time horse-drawn carriages, fixed-gear bicycle messengers whistling the theme from Breaking Away and the CTA eco-bus all skim the back of my coat. Surely the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse shall ride fixed-gear bicycles. Hopefully, the eco-bus runs on the fresh remains of messengers or cabbies. One must never stop dreaming. However, one who is not ready may wish to stay on the sidewalk. The Center Path is not going anywhere. Besides, Thursdays are street cleaning days. If the odds of one being assaulted by a city street cleaning vehicle are high, one might consider staying home to watch the View. It won't relax you, but you will have fulfilled the obligatory terms of your social contract with big media – at least for the next two weeks.

moment

If I had the urge to set aside
            Thoughts
            About you
I
    Might
        Start
            Here
Far far away from you or your world of
Cheap crooks
Thought-fuck derelicts
        and
            Stage-Mothers
I
    Might
        Return
            To myself
            Midstream
        Wearing
    You
As a puppet
Half-swollen
Gas-mask brigade in tow
            Left
            Full-forgotten in
                    a
                    Shoebox
Wet, falling back upon itself
    Curled out around our faces
    Closer than
    the
    Hand
    on
    Your ass
All without mention the moment when
        I laid
        A revolution
        on
        Your belly
            Dressed as
            a Teddy bear

pull me around beat me by the ears all the blood returns to
                            The
                            Same
    Redundant
    Moment