LESS THAN A STATUE

It's in the chirruping of your car alarm
The La Cucaracha of the Vegetable Man
or maybe the way you stare when there's nothing really
to be seen --
All these are fragments.
It's in the way the air hangs heavy at night
Taunting you to swim through it
Come on, come on now
It's that smile of complacency
A spectre of a personalized license plate
What's your name?  What's your orifice?
More fragments.
Or maybe just a scream, ignored
Not enough reality to make the concept feasible.
It's in the way two strangers flee from each other
When passing on the street
and the gas that comes from the sewers
so lonely.

It's that brief time in the day
When you're a little less than a statue
And a little more than a hole in the wall
When you wring your hands together
And wonder where you are.