He sits in sterile tranquility

tension between public and private

written on his face

a faux walk

tossing out enough self-effecating wit

to be lobbying for equal treatment

but in the piece of a borrowed office

in quiet spaces

life re-emerges

small pleasures

familiar images

buried twinges

somewhere between simple touches and complex

long ago you kissed the names

but now something else is slipping away

no wonder you rise in the middle of the night

with mind on-ramps

your heart could not be probed

where it starts in clarity and ends in mystery

you see the city life

but are not observant of it

it has a corrosive affect

offering an angle

growing gradually then explosivel

sailing alone

he complains

but he has nothing to complain of