From "Introductions" by Jillian Weise
"After we've introduced ourselves
with gin and tonic and jazz,
a woman asks to read our palm."
I slid down your leg's trombone
and rub the sandpaper on your hips.
Impatient, the palm reader exhales
in fact, she hisses and it smells of
sodden cardboard. I consider if the man collecting my trash
at 5:48 in the morning has the same stench.
These folks measure yesterday in pounds of grease
My neighbors, the man flicking to light an end,
Everyone around us smiles and,
waving paper towels like scarves,
they drive bomb this town
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