The day drops black and the stars,
and the smog-dimmed, sputtering cars:
an urban landscape. I stare
up now and then at sidewalks where
stumbling, hollow, The Vacants leave the bars.

"Not drunk?" --- Either rambling or mute,
ignorantly half-drowned at the root
like rows of over-watered flowers,
numb like thumbs in ice for hours
they live. --- "Drink and follow suit!"