Trucks unload behind my bug-eyes, black glass, you can’t see me.
Arranging stones, the broken bones of consecrated buildings,
making good, the things that fell to pieces.
Shock-hair lobster woman, posing for trade, window dressing,
catch your eye, draw you in,basket bicycle, lying smashed on
the pavement, nobody stopping, step around, don’t look, walk on,
shadows sing a cold song.
Invisible Conga People – ‘Can’t Feel my Knees‘