Every evening the man brings home his trailer / of vegetables. He bruises them rushing over the kerb. // In the house across the way a mirror waits / glowing and alone for all the lighted day.
and all the instruments that need to go / into the autoclave have gone to that chamber / of steam and all the debris is whirlpooled / down I am set free in the streets / victim and champion / red and rubbed lips softer than anything else
