I wrote this earlier in the style of a Mattea Harvey poem. I'm too tired for anything much more. Goodnight.
HERALD SQUARE
It is 90something hot in Herald Square,
I am looking for grape soda
a man is holding a sign that reads
“The End of the World?”
a woman with a corduroy dog
says out loud to anyone, “I’m scared”
I say, “Well, don’t fear comets. They can never kill
by impact, it’s the propelling force
that will crush and then burn you,
or maybe you catch fire first.”
The janitor points out my wet pocket.
I have forgotten another bag of koi.
She whispers, “I am afraid the moon is dead.
And what care can dead things have for us?”
I am offered to buy my own photograph,
it shows only where I could have been.
A man yells, “I feel flatter and hotter.”
The wind boomerangs our words.
I tell the woman, “You’re not crazy.”
A something we should all hear once.
The seer bum switches signs,
holds up a plus sign between him and nothng.
