beyond the barricades, some invisible gesture
has frozen everyone in place—

What moves toward you, uneven, menacing?
All that you have lost—

As Golden Gate Park lies sunken in sea fog
concealing in heaps of sodden brown leaves
beer cans, condoms, a soccer ball,

The sky flashes past us while we sleep,
deep in our beds, drowning,

cello-shaped in our linen sheets,