Late Afternoon Taxis

long rain under the wheels the light
washed the colour of light

its own particular moment
now

the bird whose name
I don't know

doesn't answer, a stone in a puddle
its departure from that tree

which leans over the road
as if to listen

to the various given addresses.

Springboard: An Ashbery

It slopes away & we follow begrudgingly;
all places are restive if you approach them knowing
-the rest are just pitstops (not to be
dismissed: the mind continuously measures exits)
just as the bar is continually higher. Who raised it?
Well, once a topic is brought up the urgent need is
to turn away, make a pretext of investigative enquiry
into the sublime (subliminal) 'something else'.
To be constant in your failure
of a test noone told you to sit is the only thing.
And here's another.

It's 'slops away' & we can travel freely.
Now is the time to make a big show of choice.
For once a topic's brought up its pure excresence
to those of us who can hide in something wondrous like
'a surly disposition' & paw over the unwritten
(usually desire, in a bar, with eyes continually following
the edges of her as she serves us)
-this is the pretext. We come after, are higher now
than we've ever been at this moment & failure
to constantly address our time of departure
is the blessing we aim for & the thing we need least.