a returnthe city is a garden of high density polyethylene, ferroconcrete, exhaust. mary and i crossed toward our apartment, some cars were young women, whiny and thin. others were lazy old men, moaning, fat. a new plant in the foyer, she thought it was plastic until she tore away a leaf. the third stairwell landing where our hands and mouths sought desperately unexplored frontiers, and found none. the seventh floor, a man down the hall talks to pictures of his wife and children in another state.
©1999 Timothy A. Clark