More or Less
mid the morning
rain
the flags hang
like wet feathers
and the streets
are high gloss
and the guy crossing it
is baptized
on his bald head
and the lights
are blinking red
and the woods
are wet
with spring
and the fruit
in the bin
is turning …
like a woman
like a man
peeling back
to core
before there was
a layer
or a shape
or a shade
or a scent
before there was
more or less
TL