On my way home

I walk rather straight to
the subway station
an old hooker says fuck
fuck fuck let’s go fuck
it is the umpteenth century

there are those days that I just want to lie in the grass

there are those that I want to answer my call
unambiguous days, blushing in abundant sunlight
days I talk to some people, order something

look at the fat insects between the window panes
dying days, days of estrangement, preemptive reckoning,
reasoned days, rodent days,

I say unto the old hooker,
We must all do our work in mysterious ways

and I straighten my pace.

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