Lovelorn Poet in Pittsburgh, PA: Capote 4

Lunch by wackystuff

i do see the wheeled quickboxes in afternoon light.
the quickbox: i take shelter under the still ones;
i have been miserable inside one three times;
i see humans spend so much time within;
they can kill, i have seen them kill.

imagine if our mothers adopted our insurrections as they have adopted us.
do they have owners? whose water dish tipped, plant pulled? what clawed from curiosity or impulse, unfiltered want?

the waterfall is over.
menworkers came and it was gone–is this where all water comes from? man-mother, men-workers?
it does rain. and in the woods there is a stream. is there a man worker twisting some wheel to make these come and go?

but not everything is artifice.
blood on teeth is not artifice.
there is the soft tasteless mouse of man-mother’s, and the m o u s e was never alive.
one dies.

i ran late last night in the early summer warmth.
imagined your white-black fursmell from bigrock to thorncopse.
at one point i dreamed (did i dream?) of you in a field. with teeth.

Her Two Cents

Capote returns for poem #4 with feline observations of daily life. Quickboxes, accidental waterfalls, menworkers, fursmells, and m-i-c-e (both real and disappointingly artificial). To view the world through the eyes of an animal is to experience the real as unreal, and the ordinary as extraordinary and mystical.

Her Two Cents

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