The hover of the pole-hugger on the Q train
no light gray morning dotted with rain
smell of paper bag wet from steam of egg
or bread I am McDonald’s sad as prototypic
as a breakfast sandwich the leads in a Haneke film
invariably called George & Anne I don’t want
to be a figure others lean their names into
the woman in the Wieners poem waiting
for the speaker to kiss on her mouth kiss off
to that & into the air as the Violent Femmes
sang that summer when love & its likeness
infected us all with music & rage ^ My daughter
likes Hello Kitty even though she has no mouth
& always looks sad It’s more important I tell her
to feel deeply than to be happy To be happy
writes Cioran you must constantly bear in mind
the miseries you’ve escaped But wouldn’t that mean
your miseries had caught up with you?
^ The quiet beauty of the commuter insists
on surface as we head toward Stillwell Ave
where staying still conflates with staying well
Tell that to the cat who laments being wheeled
into the unknown in a lightless bag I catch
a whiff of Pond’s as she passes what hollow

The Line
Longshore Drift