public relations

after attending
a reading
of some
mediocre poets
I sat on the balcony
of our studio
apartment
drank gin
and listened
to the Mexicans
in the parking
lot across
the way
argue
and throw
stones
at the dumpster

somehow
arguments in other languages
always seemed
less
threatening
even
benign

but the cops
eventually
arrived
with their
batons and
bracelets
and
hauled
off a
heavy mama
into the
stench
of uniformity
and calm
but not
before she
smashed
a beer bottle
on their
windshield
and
kicked
one of them
in the shin

*

that night I awoke
on the toilet
with my pants
and shorts
down
around my ankles
to the sound
of my roommate’s voice
sliding in
through the
cracked frame

I pulled my pants
up
having left
nothing
in the pot

and she helped me
climb the ladder
into the loft
where I fell
asleep
wheezing
on the air mattress

if it is truly
other people’s
reactions to us
that make us
who we are

there may
not be
one soul
saved from
complete
annihilation

and I tend
to like
that

all of us
mixed
in the same soup
acting and
reacting
your A
and my M
rubbing off
on each other
waiting
for another
letter to
float by
and
change us
forever