33.

How I forgot that my soapbox was broken

How it had had its ribs kicked in

As if the smell of blood were on our hands

how I forgot all this and more. Stanzas

Cannot hold the world, contain the day.

The machines grind up the asphalt

And lay down a new surface, as if a road

Were more than a metaphor.

How I forgot that choruses

Are not always about herds.

Hector could not hector Troy

Even ater Helen hellenized it

And the horse had kicked over my milking stool.