"It's a device," he said,
in the street lamp light, poking it.
"That's what it is."

possibly perfect
but too heavy to carry
I bypass the thing

certain street treasures
employ dark spells to evade
the recycling truck


autumn park people
draw together today in
the bright orange corner

office building shadow
reaches my sunny parkbench
lunch break is over

the mental challenge:
two more months of shortening days;
now hold sanity


bin full of papers
I rummage through like a rat
back issues of AdWeek!

searching for wisdom
I discover truth instead
newsstand reality

celebrity’s weight
they measure in tons
at the recycler


journey to work
not so much walking
as swimming

puddles in the day
live always against the odds
the sun is waiting

New York strangers stand
at the crossing as one
waiting for a sign


little squashed bug
your mad dash for safety
is what caught my eye

superman died today
yet dubya still struts
comic heroes live forever

the clock is shrinking
as my memory grows fat
time for a nap


in my cubicle
"please call it a workstation"
overwhelmed by beige

muses squeezed between
modules, wires and monitors
claw at my ankles

there is a doorway
glowing digital unlocked
tho tethered, I dive