You are without illusion and the citizens are both clumsy and complicit cupping ear to ear
Close to skin reflected
force community policing
propagates through your compressed soft tissues’ real life refused
to vacate judgment of restraint of trade the marked man
with working gangs’ massed bodies marked in colors claimed
a block-size world marked out the universe of penal law
To point at this risks letting slip fragments of untranslated street life
from the dense market cluster outward to the orbit of the ICE vans
but still the law in question of not for the alien separates
the dead into the infinite of each moment in the air and then
it’s gone the moon at perigee smogged in red amnesia
Without a substitute the sound the muscles make sounds
elsewhere a geography and hedges transfer one leg always
in another world the working organ its insistence we are not
the same I am a Martian and the words are not
my life is being beaten for a time the silent
maestro keeps with a baton
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