tea & symmetry

the only problem I have with feet
is that they don't detach.

detached men can though, from
feelings and unions and Unions
and wives
on the balconies of posh hotels
filled with
naked bell-hop and smoked salmon.

so I walk,
into the pale city filled
with the sub-space groans of
a god busting for
a piss,

where the streets have many names
and the taxis all look the same
to the eye of the [whispers]

business executive,
but one long hop to the women
standing on the platform;
longing for some tea
and symmetry.