I.

My Subway Ride Home from Work at Midnight -

After a long work day,
nothing
compares
to a man singing
southern songs,
to the
beat
of his own
clapping
hands,
As I wait for the train.


II.

After a coiling,
nothing like a monday
can constitute
a blind man singing
songs of the faithless
to the topsy-turvey slip scat maroon
beat
of his own
persnickety
hands
as I drip for the train
drip
drop
Mary, come tell me just how many scallops
you want to eat
and mary, come tell me, just how fast you
think this car can go
and mary, come tell me, why on earth the stymie
shakes the trees
when the leaves simply laugh
and swallow.

III.

Beatrice, Beatrice, I do dismay,
come hither now and fetch me my tea.
I was once a maiden, fair, white,
now my skin resembles rotten fruit,
and Beatrice, beatrice, why don't you come?

She was here yesterday, I can see her soft face,
and the day before that, when the elm trees turned grey
and the wind seemed to sweep it all away.
Mary, I don't know a Mary.
But Beatrice, she sure could cook.

IV.

When numbers count to one-hundred,
a dollar bill can be redeemed,
if all the pennies shine like silver moons
coated in candy apple syrup.

Do you remember how delicious candy apples looked?
And the that rock crisp cusp of coating that burned
with sugar and tambourine shake your death with each
chomp, chew, chew.