it's real sweat & the voices are
armenian & the police car is still
north of fountain--parked. another
police car turns north on alexandria.
one block away. they're looking
for someone. & the bone has curved.
there's no turning back.
she had pasta primavera & a glass of
white wine. he had an 8oz new
york steak, medium rare. the wait-
ress talks him into having mashed
potatoes instead of french fries.
three tvs on, high in the corners,
no sound. the sound was cole porter.
silver lake, what do you expect?
the cats, in 100 degree weather, do
nothing slowly. the man sits in his
boxer shorts in front of the square
fan. & the heat is supposed to continue
it's real silent except for the fan.
he can't think of anything but the
curving--it's like infinity.
Harry E. Northup