by Greg Santos
The place within is a shiny new city. There are commuter trains and a network of subways that transport the inhabitants to my thoughts and desires. The women don multi-hued headscarves and the men all wear fedoras. It is a metropolitan hub where all the movers and shakers like to be seen eating Cobb salads. On weekends they gather here to toast each other over and over. I am never invited but I like to hear their champagne flutes clink from the outside.
Greg Santos is the poetry editor of pax americana. He blogs here.