Difficult Listening Time Poem by Brendan Constantine

A flock of pink flamingos moved in
across the street, and set up plastic people
on the lawn.
.........................,They've faced them out
this way, hands molded to their chins,
looking more like us as night comes on.
Downtown, the waitresses are starving
in their aprons; the watchmen get fainter
by the hour.
.................. It's Difficult Listening Time,
object response time, time for ‘the tears
of things.'
............... There has to be a way to help
it along, a way to dry the rain as it falls
so we can keep these clothes.
............................................... Let's go
to the woods & hang a painting of this
room on every tree. We'll go to sea
& on each sailboat fix a picture
of a hotel bed.
...................... Or how about we stay
home & talk out every song between us
until we sound like heavy, stupid birds.