hard to be optimistic when you're urged

to look forward and all you see is the ass end

of the guy ahead of you in line--

how blessed we

to be the ones tunneling this worm track

through the cheese of time

*

roaming this isolated stretch of sidewalk

by the LIRR train tracks watching their appointed cars

run their schedule back out to the island--

odd numbers of people--even here-- passing on their way home

from the shopping center a few blocks away--

I should move on--I'd hate to be busted by some neighborhood

watch for nothing better than idling on a corner--especially here--

where even one person is a crowd--except of course unless

you're that person

*

yeah Bill Knott I hear ya--no one knows me or wants my papers

(I worked in the Berg Collection and oh the shit they took in (I mean really--

Alfred Corn???)--whadda say we light up boxes of our ephemera

and shove 'em up some curators's asses?

I understand the guy who said "every time I hear the word 'culture'

I reach for my revolver"

Content (c) 2008-2011 Philip Milito.