Too late
                   even the moth holes
             were ruined only ruin
       let us cross the street
   & be human if only
through the morning but      scrambled eggs with
a morning isn't the best                chopped up
             form of                         onion & tomato
          resistance                       Small coffee
       Afternoon                                         to go
  is the will to go on      A space
broken                                at the table
into bite sized                        for plates &
  morsels & left                  slouching
       uneaten                   posture

             Sunk head
     in otherwise
waxy hands &      Neither is
sobbing                           a cop's
isn't the best form of      instruction on
resistance nor                        the
pedestrian                       method of holding
  votive                       candles without splashing
       invocations         on the mass of wrinkles
                             I move through the city