Modern Transport

A steamboat’s paddle is a mandala that is always half drowned. A man with a fortune-telling crystal almost steps in front of a bus. It’s the express to the Bronx Zoo, and its exhaust gave the sky cancer. Life is transient, says the girl on roller skates. The purple lilacs are in bloom. The world is so beautiful. It makes the old shopkeeper rush into the yard without any shoes. The sun through the blinds, his daughter's sidelong glances, looking up from her work preening nits from a rented gorilla suit.