home at six
to a loose socket
in your thought
so mechanically
our minds churn like machines
and our bodies
wheels and cogs
of inane comfort

we climb into an elevator
to high landings
in a breathless finish
of our fires
blown out  by years

going at nine
every morning
the car driving me
ahead of what i'm thinking
******* unknown women
split image of the day

at six we will practise again
our machine like movements.

© Marshall Gass. All rights reserved, 2 months ago