A view down a boulevard escalating with girls,
the hipshake of sunlight almost Catholic, nearly pagan.
Waiting chauffeurs joust with lit cigarettes,
kid each other about who’s done whom
in the spotless backseat. Weathervane jolts
softly at a train’s picking up, tempo tricky
as trembled pane, sip, fart, rumble.
The blue of a frayed Soutine elbow.
With forehead pressed against the window of the train,
the voyeur, folded within the reflected crowd,
takes note of serendipitous nuance. It is the same
window at which another once raged, against the oval
geometry of space and zero. The train’s first lurch,
a child’s siren loudly rising.