Juvenalia is what it was. A calling
is what it was.

A lost phone, a cut phone line.
How it shines

in the sun of today.
Grooved cubicles

of blocked rubber.
Wired underbelly

of the capital-city,

For the streetcar?

Glance above, formulate
symbols in response.

Sense of chimerical energy.
Ride on down—

ride it down the line.

Deadlock. Corner-store
of the heart.

Between what it does not
and what it does,

a renovated part.

Numbers in the wrong, dallied on
superfluous, daily

bread. Lady sings;
She can’t explain.