Locale - by S. Black

Heaving the 'T' in a trash bin for a sociological spin through nouvelle callousness that is making all

our restaurants international south of south Bronx --

a delicious Vietnamese egg roll of amnesia, meaty

Tibetan noodles spiced by the dispossessed -- our

only hope is that activists, too tired from the day's

frustrations to read much, might skim thin volumes

to renew their resistance to the glaringly obvious,

while the fashion industry, valiumed on style

to keep pace with revolving seasons of advertising

space, sleeps in roomy cooperatives that have made

simple dwellings passe. Shall we move south,

chuck this biz for a clapboard house by a creek,

winnow and fish? Nobody busy is stopping us.

from Waterworn