by Julian Lasher
We’re timed in oscillations
straphangers in February
dreaming of old breaks
on white sand
catching elevator pitches
finding contemporary salads and
extraordinary playlists
blocking left hooks
seeking prestige truth
in the puzzle of arms
tallying our hopes in the snow
giving everything away
hanging it up
breathless by the door
swimming in currents of
fuzzy jargon, breathing
****
Julian Lasher is writing in New York.