Vipassana

after the empire collapses

 


a dead chicken
on the sidewalk

embers—little bits 
of  burning paper

drifting in the
air a man asleep 

on a king-size 
bed in an empty

warehouse a she
done me wrong

song with a slow
cha-cha rhythm

playing somewhere
distant and no 

one there to talk
to and no where

to go and no 
way to get there