a brief relief
while you quiet down from a rough
round of drinks, while the ring-stain
on the table you sit at is rubbed
and rubbed and comes to nothing
a dog in the alley is losing his teeth
in the neck of a street mate
and it will take months for the soup
to cool in her after she’s licked each
wound clean of vein and sheath.
Some coincidence a Hard Day’s Night
is the song you thumb that circle to
while they growl, locked, and soon
you excuse and you fall
on the wall and slip into the divot
where all the world’s worries
and jazz wind up, briefly, and then
a passive moon pulls it all
to the sea the sea the shining shiny sea.
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