All over the city something gets into people. Women tucking in their kids close their eyes, think of men they should have followed off buses. Girls rouge their cheeks with lipstick, their bodies telling lies to anyone who'll listen. Cars with their lights off glide under the trees, headed for the ocean. The men going through garbage cans rifle Burger King bags for a few pale fries. They lie down in doorways. In dreams, their mothers check their foreheads for fever. Refugees sit up studying old photographs they enter like water, going under. Moon, take them down. Desire is a cold drink that scalds the heart. Somewhere women are standing at their windows, like lit candles, and boys in Army boots go dancing through the streets, singing, and shoot at anything that moves.© Kim Addonizio
from The Philosopher's Club (BOA Editions, 1994)