warned against the expectations of plot & dénouement we
nevertheless attended our commiserations in the public
library & at the feet of the national monument
& as the day passed on it seemed the flags on the flagpoles had
entered a humid phase of indifference
a child with an azure hat waves down from a tram window as
the tram pushes against the tide of pedestrians
it was agreed, there was no longer space in which to perceive
ourselves alighting there in that sea of gregarious well-¬
voices in voice-balloons floating above the shapeless mass
this in accordance with the programme, a note, insisting on
pure spectacle: “so much happening & nothing taking
we retrace our steps & attempt a crossing from the opposite direction
at 12.00 take a break catch up with gossip, clues on the outcome
of unheard-of events
after, to pay our respects at the dead-letter office (in hope of
intercepting misdirected correspondence)
& drink coffee at a stand
& scan the headlines of a newspaper on a newspaper rack:
“change predicted. . .” thinking about where to be next,
never in the one place or “there” as they say
quietly adrift in the gaze of passing strangers two three four,
waiting in line ahead to pay “so much poverty is an
eyesore” says the woman in the patent leather boots & the
billboard says vote x for more y less z
the pigeons do their thinking under eaves in the blue twilight
& suddenly, as it always seems, you don’t want to be alone again,
tonight, climbing the stairs that lead one after an other
upwards to the surface & air
but like the doors in dreams it has no handle