HOT BRICK



I grey-gaze through windows:

/dull roofs squashed
against plastic
sheet of sky

girl's tender wrist
cut by rusty metal faces/

until the waitress with waxwork
smile sucks my glad
brain into throated caves

would my molten pool
could melt her sugar belly

but she turns away
to hot dogs and diamonds

and I swivel back
to my weighty window