Weariness

in the other world

the man

with the beautiful eyes 

takes off his face

the mud girls

stop their flirting

by the bridge

and sink back 

into the bog

the angels 

find a street corner

where they can squabble

like pigeons 

over a dollar bill

or a cigarette 

I limp

through the evening 

you can see the bones

of my feet

you can see the cloak

of my weariness