Jake's Flea Market

through all those minutes of sleep this
hand this 
long pointer finger circled round the boulevard and ticked
past the same twelve addresses again

and again and again came
to the twelve o’clock 
exit out of one drive around that was
the entrance into the next and continued

again and again past
this shorter hand this thicker hand this slower hand this
thumb that more slowly circled

‘til this thumb stood
still at number seven and this long
pointer finger arrived at number twelve

that’s when
from somewhere behind the boulevard
from somewhere beneath the neighborhood a fire 
alarm pierced
my sleep and i woke

all the colours of the october morning waved
at the window and i knew
the sun burned