Behind The Walls And What You Don't See


Take any apartment block and stare into its empty eyes;

behind the curtains,

past the stud wall kitchen and into
the bedroom,
they’ll be a couple copulating in
the afternoon sun,


below on the sidewalk

strip, no-one knows of the
grip they’re in-
a vice tight hold of
infatuation:
in-fat-u-ation,


beyond this,

after the sex,
the lovers will sit and read,
bleed out to Benzedrine;
puncture parecetemol to avoid headaches;
mess with the myriad marijuana;
raise the stakes and place everything they have
on a red seventeen and hope
they’ll come out sane in the morning haze.


Take any apartment block and stare into its empty eyes.

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