Jailbreak

The eyelids were thin
and the sun tore through them
like a newsboys fingers on
a rainy day.
The church bells were
a thousand police dogs
barking and howling
and lunging from the steeple.

There were pigeonshit rain drops
splattered on the plateglass.
The ants hairy feet tapped
in unison as they marched
across the warped wooden windowsil.

And the telephone poles stand at attention
and the parking meters tick away the minutes
in coin while
the men on the manhole shake
papercups.

The elephants downshift and rummble through
the heat rippled blacktops.
A cigarette burns down to
the cotton and goes
out just above the
lipstick prints.

The lungs inhale the
exhaust fumes and the oily hands
collect soot and dust and pollen.
The armhair’s crabgrass with a ragweed daughter.
The toenails are fools gold tiles
piecing together mosaics
as the feet tread the stony sidewalks.
The mockingbirds sing only one note.
The squirells vomit acorns on the treetrunks.
The horseflies laugh and shit where they eat.
And with a litle luck,
someone will compose a symphony
about all of it.