The Service I Offer
written by: John Grey
I can write about
the town drunk’s shuffling feet,
the world beneath the surface,
the ways up and the ways down,
perverse Tee shirts,
frozen screens,
light dancing on the wires
and the hard park bench
I am sitting on this very moment –
in case you know
a good movement
not being covered
write to me care of
a need to shift and rearrange,
a brief smile,
how it came to be
or the non-Government issue
portion of the inside of my mailbox –
my response will be with you
in wood and plaster,
goats and petroleum,
private blue visions,
skin tightened around cheekbone,
a geodesic cyclone
and a circling kite of indifferent knowledge –
I know, on receiving it, you will be
white waves rolling in,
a big black factory,
several seconds of watery pink eyes,
a dead man’s face,
the decomposing carcass of a lobster,
the grip of night
and a kidney-stone sandwich –
but that’s the least that I can do.
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