From the ‘LUNCH POEMS’ series

There are
clouds bunching
up like the
over-sudding
of a sinkful of
dishes

the foam
holds its shape
floats gently
over my city
buoyant
midday
listless but
headed somewhere
eventually

now its underbelly
looks smooth
as river rock
grey as a tabby

like some sky
iceberg
broken off of
some sky
glacier

when there are
two trains, side
by side,
you can’t tell
which is moving
from the inside

we do our best
even when we’re wrong

now I’m feeling
upside down

Clouds
Old City, Philadelphia
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