Utopia Avenue

To have your photo taken is to be told, “You exist.”

Amsterdam wraps itself around itself: London unfolds, unfolds, unfolds.

Drums were here before we are. The rhythms of our mothers’ hearts.

‘8’ is infinity, sat up.

Keeping track of each of us would drive God quite insane.

We come, we see, we hang around till Death snuffs out our candles …