I am home and sad as shirts.
T's and V's,
depending on the Brooklyn where's.
I am me and you are you.
every year I clap my hands
and you drift down to the main street
river horse of my goddamn doldrum dreams
of summer, but it is winter,
dressed in hats that old ladies
wear to markets.
don't worry about me.
I'm starving.
the tom is shimmy shake.
fact or fiction.