This 
the distance 
between home and work
between a Lexus, a
horse trailer, a bus
Go west 
the youth-spent clock
claiming our place 
here at an upscale campus
And here,
Skinned, clubbed
Full of umbrellas 
and messenger bags 
Now in the waiting room 
the fat and the gray start 
at the roots and wait for shots.
Outside a junkie in the rain
tugs at his hair net 
and waves.
The lucky seven
It is summer.