the modern life

just lost a poem on this
computer.
I don’t believe it was
immortal.
neither was this day
or night.
not when all you
can remember
is the 4 horse breaking
through the gate
and spilling the jock
in the yellow silks
as the man
in front of you
bit into a hotdog
like a mongrel
dog
as the market went
down
and Van Gogh
up.