It Is Just That And Not That Poem by delilah contrapunctal.... yes, that's how I intended to spell it.........

feathers stuck on the windshield wipers......

a grinding rumble...for two quarters...not just the one, like the directions say
can't be called drapes...those're droops.....
unhooked...pull cords unresponsive...

in the cafe the unruly eyes of over-perked demiurges are glintglaring muted epiphanies at cracked naugahyde....

kick the pebbles..
.they clink...almost clang
against an overturned washtub......
a relic in zinc... testament to the insidiousness of dust...
.
promises never said out loud....