Dupont Circle South
Where’d he get the purple tie?
He bums a cigarette off me
but can’t get it lit with my lighter
while these show-tune kids sidle by,
drama on their cell phones,
and the fountain drools into its pool,
surrounded by naked bodies in the grass,
near-accidents every few minutes
in the chaos lanes, horns and brakes.
Sometimes I say divinity walks in rags.
Sometimes the dream in stone
slides right into my soul.
Sometimes I hear someone say,
where’s the illuminating lightning,
the big annihilating strike?