unwraps paper
slow, slow
mutters maybes because
multitudes Must know
hunches in drab tones --
and the jaw's stretch
and the chew's stick
and the breeze on his freckled crown
shrinks his limbs in
huddled, hunkered, hardly
perhaps at 22, 23
one's ears awake --
this demeaning coda
sings insipid
"what's it all ab-OW-it? what's it all ab-OW-it?"
sotto voce mezzo forte
throbbing of the soul
beyond a #6, no onions,
small fry
