there is something
about crowd

their white rhapsodic
movement, that delicate
swan’s supple grace,
that derelict toad’s
humble passion:
chords music whorls

the variables are
hats and jacks and
fills and thrills
dying from overexposure

paddling handbags, suits
ties
to browniest shores:
home sweet death

in lifeless windows
underpants going for
songs

and the steady thud
of boots, lace-me-ups,
sandals, blue shoes,
heels

kiddies smashing mommy’s
nerves with delicious
hot-ice suckers

is it the promise
(seen in cinemas every week)
of mattresses stuffed with sleep
that them on lures ?

something
there is
about crowds,
something
like drowning ducks
i think.