A crazed sizzle of bursting honey bees
in the word EAT. Past it,
a large number of stars have blurred
like left blooms in the thin
light cleaning up out there,
flooding the frigid mountains
feign by feign. Minutes after the fact,
the sign squints, winks dim,
what's more, a white-aproned cook—
surfacing in the dim sheen
of the window—inclines for a short time
like a cut lily . . . gazing out
into the hungry vacancy
he knows he should go home to.