Fine dining in a clearing in the Jungle
Nude, but for my Peacock Choos
Sitting at the table
Urban Poem
Saturday Midnight by Charles F. Thielman
The rust iron wing of a train horn
pinballs down glass and steel canyons,
The Lane by Annemarie N’ Churre’in
Breathless, the whole way
down, skimming
fuchsia, rag-ferns,