Woke up this morning with light in my eyes
and anger like treacle all over my thorax;
the bridges have shed their mammaly penumbra
and stand again synthetic in the sun.
Cars fart, complete in their modernity
and commerce, the fluffer, goads the world.

William welcomes us endlessly anew,
ignores the rest of the station's hubbub

vats of kimchi strapped to his back,
doilies and sweetmeats, pockets of grass.