See a damn thing in this light—
 

Is that closer? That’s close enough
 

Now— to one side fly the empty
 

Terraces and scraped nests of let’s
 

Call it Worldwarland, a busy place
 

And serves a decent espresso, but’s
 

Got no milk that’s not long off.
 

Here’s the promises and wet cargo
 

And the uncaptioned foreignness
 

That comprise the wide wastelands
 

Of Prologue and his accoutrements,
 

His flashbacks and scores and lyrics
 

And flinches at the smell of her or
 

Anything like