We have constructed pyramids

Spinning like those vacant eyes behind dark glasses
midnight on the last train heading south
no more than a pantomime in transit to clip the
heart that never made it past the security checkpoint

eyes like whirlpools drawing down to
a single point on the map east of nowhere
the cave the cross the dull mid-morning sun
falling in upon the murmuring confessional

built out of introspection & denial
the music folded up & put away 300 years ago
translated from green to blue to the cement gray
of eyes only slightly more pale than springtime

to be sorted out like loose change in the damp
alley back of the liquor store where even the softest
whisper of a breeze cuts you clean to the bone