Society Gig

aristocrats among fiends and prostitutes
before the intellectuals, waiting til snow
falls and only then hiding. Signaling out for each its contoured tribal burden
until they come alive in one another like fountains and hints and we shiver, kiss wrists, fit perfect into a nightshift grocer's routine anticipation of hope for the conversation on earth. New York, will you give up your death for us like a mimic prophet buckling on the grid of yourself. Become less significant and more meaningful. Disappear to be everywhere I mean. Go against the delirium of reputation and become sane and empty the guile into a river and go on to hire detectives who will re-invent the suspense we run on as they solve the river for the static they inflict it with nerve. I dream of pirates bold enough to hide their time. Your thrills grow dull with glamor, theirs grow high on militant anonymity. My meaningful other. Block party, corner store. Celebrate the brilliance of wolves.