ALEXANDRIA
"Order," she said,
lips like scissors,
"Order, a direct
route."
A one-way map
to the frontier.
The map ticks like a watch.
It
blooms
in
spring,
falsely.
The bottom of the sea
is made of wire
in
coils.
In
the city, I
lo~k
down through the streets
a hundred feet,
pipes and tunnels
swimming everywhere.
We are going together.
Howard McCord
