"it is very late in the day, very late"
A bus burns in a grey city at the end of the world. I hide poems on a dusty shelf at the back of the liquor store. I search an abandoned car for guns and drugs under the freeway in El Cerrito. I find nothing but skeletons in the trunk. I kneel before a middle-aged Asian woman on the train. I kiss and tongue her bare legs. She runs her fingers through my hair. The other passengers hum Christmas carols to their reflections in the windows.