Pieces of a Sequence
Chris Stroffolino


The river keeps the kitten interested enough
To stop pouncing on the cat and share its gaze.
Its intestines are vast social networks, above ground bureaucracies
That make us want to have the subway to ourselves all day.
But then we'd be the mayor,
And you know the hell there'd be to pay
Even from those who wish his truck towing policy
Went so far as to outlaw the car and relegalize the pigeon
And make the little Unabomber in our soul
Smile and dance in his cell to the tune of an oldie
So ancient (older even than Collective Soul)
One doesn't need a radio to hear it.

It is his own, though nowadays he'd be convicted
As a plagiarist to share with you, to let panic
Be a picnic and let the picnic
Be a kind of fast at the feast
A kind of "I don't have to hide in my room
To resist the temptation to always touch you"
As if I'm attracted to your mind enough
To be accused of being repulsed by your body
By a bird that never begged for a kiss,
A river that never begged for a cat
Much less the green infinite us that,
Spanking the megaphone with the silence
Of electricity, is more than voluntary action
Before us like the times I'm too tired
To feel I'd do you justice by calling
And call anyway

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