Metro-North

You in the black suit
looking like a million birds
in the blue of heaven
the tie tucked in
the winter sucking away
everything your body wants
a body like a diamond
in the ocean
on a necklace
sinking, getting warmer

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Metro-North and
the air still hurts
the lung-repellant and
wood tiling
and it's dead sully
and burnt lighting
while the haily window
and tickets' ticking
tick clock-like
with a dog, his shirt says
dog on it

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Watching grand,
central perfects
their skin shine makes
a sun blush
the birds circling like
tuxedo fibers
like snow in a drain
or socks drying in the shower

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this wagon is padded
cholora, love in it's time
love like paint on bricks
your glasses, depthless mouth

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Roberto Bolaño, dead, Chilean
worked in Germany
where the trains make sense
and people dress for one another
and there are no dogs allowed