A cigarette by a city bin at 4am
is a liberating experience due
entirely to my placeless wastage.
Six tiny spheres join the rising sun
concentric to Alexander’s Gordian Knot.
Or if there’s another interpretation
of the sculptured mass I can’t pick it.
I’ll look up the artist one day coming.
I just take a stab instead of untangling
names, dates, and hey, it worked for Al.