My husband passes out on the bar

And I order another drink 

     Smooth jazz from somewhere 

                                                      On the street is pretty 

                                                      The way nature is wrong 

I light a cigarette 

Hit Fire Machine 

The salary men unsmiling in their suits and 60-hour-work weeks 

Shuffling all serious and orderly through last night's hangover, Shinjuku 

That's right. 

ZC would light them up 

For me while he penned serious little notes 

About Roth IRAs and Wittengenstein. A reliable 

man, by all accounts, who'd tell me what to do

                                                      with his body 

Now that consciousness is aloof and in leisure     like a cat 

               at the door, 

                                             things are fine, either way

                                                                   but the door must be open. 

February 8, 2021