neighbourhood watch
blankly staring eyes of cold strangers
cut thru me like a beady-glared fish
you can buy from the pet shop for two
fifty a pop—you know the ones. silver-
blue but closer to see-thru when you
pinch their rubbery, lifeless fins to flush
them deep down grimy toilets before kids
with poorly-formed cortexes rumble to
life for their weekly dose of braindead
cartoons about astronaut apes farming
distant planets for a future & slow,
sugary death drowned in creamy 3%.
The Grail Man loves Jack
because he doesn’t believe in
magic, but wants to join his
Manhattan quest—a result of
death, despite of death. simply
grinning in the face of cold,
Arthurian annihilation, aflame
atop a blood-red steed aimed
fortuitously towards the Park.
