i read the furrows in their brow and between the lines of our ageless faces the way it braces on a man of forty surely means something jacketed diplomats the conferring like a chorus of walrus or a wall with dryers in the laundromat rumbling in sonorous unison there in me the souped up hondas stalled in traffic on bruneside burping their subwoof like a council of bullfrogs somberly kimberly they install the settling evening 