second street drifting

in my dreams i’ve curved this place
flat boulevard from funicular
and overhang into sidewalk patio,
burnt coffee and barbecue and tilted strings
and scaffolding and
the inconsistent shoulder rubbing of people
second street drifting.

in my dreams i’ve curled this place
around me sitting still on a bench
while many fill the streets
with chatter, swilling drinks,
dancing in the blush of starlight ink,
who do not know how close they are to the one who left them drifting.

in my dreams i’ve curbed this place,
the by and by and by and by,
i cruise from temple top to agitprop pinnacle
a stop at each divine
retired to statue, retired to shape
retired to tired symbol of then,
to when these people this fleet these targets
these echoes of deceit
these simple happy joyous folk
these people these people they’re people first—
til then, the long days before i came
when they could just be drifting