In poem twenty-two, what plays Hector & Achilles if not
highway voices impaled on either side of this Pontiac
Bonville’s twenty-two volt bull horn. They look at each other,
look back at the wall of police cars, & then look back at me.
They smile, & say, “If capitalism drives off a cliff, it will
do so without any help.” I am a man in a dream who
fails to lay hands upon another whom he is pursuing. The one
cannot escape nor the other overtake. In such wise did I
cry aloud amid tears, & the police join in my lament.