Oh, habitués of the walk-in clinic!
Oh, aficionados of the cockpit voice recorder!
Nothingness isn’t something
you sleep off in a doorway.
are full of forgotten vaudevillians
and signs that say EXIT,
and every panhandler demonstrates
the doubtful efficacy of begging.
Light slows to a trickle.
The sun has gone behind a cloud.
Minutes stumble like horse thieves
leaning over the necks of stolen horses.