Heart of the Empire

 

Under concrete and glass

Trucks whizzing past

In a booth at the bar

She sits at the heart of the empire

 

Picking at her salad

Reading Perec 

Keeping phones vibrating 

She can't take your call

 

Tracing plans against the window

Forecast is for chaos, clearing later

Tv ads for the medication

Used by the dudes at the bar 

 

When we fold up the flag

For the comforts she covets

Catch a scent that suggests

Moonlit, she's gone