A WEEKEND

They've shut down the area. The only ones
still standing are cordons
of police, lovebirds locked in
their rooms,
the barkeep indifferent and bald,
the moon in the skylight.

I dream of a weekend
full of dead police and cars
burning on the beach.

Timid young bodies, that's how
we'll sum up these years:
timid young bodies wrinkling,
smiling and studying, sprawled out
in the empty bathtub.