man drowns in
a burning house

sleeps and dreams that
he wakes up
in his wife’s arms

dreams that he
never wakes up and
all i can tell you is that
twenty years spent walking
these empty streets will
get you nowhere

the man you find in a
one-room apartment in
the most hopeless part of
the city of butchered dreams
is not jesus christ

he says you look familiar

asks to borrow a twenty
but doesn’t
offer you a drink

sits in a faded chair
watching a silent television
while flowers grow from
de chirico’s bones

through the afternoon
and wakes up
forty miles away

wakes up
on a kitchen floor
groping for air

not dead yet but

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