We begin with some surrogate mothering
from the Mozart quartet,
disembodied peek-a-boo,
playfully exaggerated caresses.
Does it look like the succulents
have extended us their pads?
Numberless! So far so good
unless we're looking up someone's address.
Up our own dress
with a dramatic leer?
Another synonym for "not really"
in the lingua franca
which dissolves in a close-up,
closing again behind us.
Any exclamation
might be an old outpost.
Flagpole on a traffic island!
Where have we heard that before?
A big flag panting,
forth and forth,
over the double
stream of cars.