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Instant systems.

They dressed in blue because they loved the night. They loved to find the hottest parties where the air was filled with love. Then they would stick their brutal paws into the glories of the forest. These men were somehow altered at the beautiful party. A fire descended on them as they watched the movie in the victorious darkness. A voice came out of nowhere and said: "The empty room is beautiful." I never got one thing for myself. Nothing. Card players sang to tiny females in the doorway while we knelt before the window and bowed our heads. Our emotions were vulgar. Other creatures revealed to us the grand pleasures of the voyage. But none of us would leave our cars.
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Author:Winch, Terence
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jul 1, 1993
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