Small Resistances in the Stream

Young suits and old suits
read the paper like a holy scroll
as graffiti wild as trees flies by
making mockeries of museums.

The blackberry boxes make promises:
new clarities of knowledge,
to be part of something larger.
We can chatter back our thoughts.

The lawyers in their bowties
spilling beer upon their briefs
turn quiet as they see in darkened glass
a ghost image of a breast.

The only person talking is a 50-something woman
about how numb this world's become.
It's the age now of the crone,
plain truth is revelation.