MONKEY REMEMBERS: 

 

A Monkey in a mohair suit is watching me like the New Testament 

of God, watching from an alley, radiating cracks. He’s surrounded 

by broken things, like reverential offerings. See him as we drive 

slowly past, looking for a number. Monkey in a blue face, blue hair 

a stencilled expression, an impression of a face I used to know. 

He looks right through me like we never met, like I don’t count, 

like he can’t recall. 

 

(K)