within the streets that
rise so high or
steep decent is
where we stopped
for ‘sho-co-lat’
a french cafe
inside a maze of tables
sat the two of us
and warmed us both
as Swiss October
drizzled and
we smiled and smoked
our cigarette
to knowing I
would soon be gone yet
hoping I could stay

when i was just getting over
the artificial world of
america – even making love seems artificial these days –
when i was just getting over
this plastic world in which i
work and play i saw an
electric wire coming out of the ground
and up a tree it went down and
it went into the ground on the
other side it came out of the
ground at the next tree and
i thought . . .
christ,
electric trees