Maureen Owen

 

from Digigrams

Dec 30, 2016

—“Tuck in youuuur bellieees”—sings the teacher—on Sunday night television—reenact history—the aristocracy and their servants—Bono says—capitalism is better a servant—than master—an abandoned boat—crossing the Mediterranean—crammed full—of migrants—capsized—the bully boasts—of  groping women—so many women care less—watch out—if you critique him, you’ll get sued—do the dishes—take a hot bath—the planet’s  hotter—this year—old racial hatreds—on a floating platform—beside melting glaciers—Mr. Einaudi plays piano—I calm myself—by reading Sebald—in some dreamy place between living and dying—take a walk along the park—scarf, hat, little flats—slow snow melting—on my shoulders—and the cement—young people—smoking—between one bar and another—I was once young, too—walking along this same block—sometimes smoking—on 7th Street—from Avenue A to B—waiting for Michael at the Horseshoe Bar—