Rulers have their praises set in stone––
monuments command the public square,
so the things we have always known
guide our vision. You and I meander
through the old-town, leaving traces
in garbage bins. We don’t decipher
the plaque’s inscription. Impatient
for another art––less enduring but wider,
not trapped by materiality––we delight
in a street market’s ambience: clues
for seeing into things. The sights
from below: airborne graffiti, tent-city blues,
   a clown’s uncanny grin. The statue descends,
   hatless now, offering a bouquet of questions.

           (Hotel Amerika, Vol 15, Winter 2017)