Is it better than me? To be
Or is it the origination?
Masks are not worn in the poor station
When the starving cannot carry their trays.
Mister busy body…
What is the business of your body under those overalls
And how do you paint my distress?
We both pant for food when the table does not serve us
And the remote control dishes out men and women in pants
Now that the day is done for more hope.

Audacious is the return of a promulgation
That rather fancies the request to be on my shoe.
Try the other one, and then we will be one
And the network will not be so hard to get.
One foot in front of the other – have no regret!
Let me know if it is too soon for you –
If there is time for tea, there is time for two
Betwixt the fashions of rhythmical displeasure that comfort the zoo(s).

Control. Like a balancing beam and the stocking is ad hoc
On the floor like a nappy next to the drawers.
That is. The next wine I drink might be about the blues.
Blue Army! Blue Army!
I can hear them coming
And the train won’t stop one stop early
How is that a furlong in the pitch of the union
Of European snakes unwarping the aeons of frustration in my Inn and Tavern?
Classical and majestical.
I have stopped their see through rouse
And the memory of tomorrow is better than it would have been.

When there is no fight between man and woman there need not be one on the streets
If the proper place for fists online is not where sucking meets and greets.

AI Summary

Your piece begins with a meditation on hunger — literal and emotional — as you compare yourself to another man in a place of scarcity, both of you struggling for dignity while the world reduces people to roles, uniforms, and expectations. You move through images of shoes, networks, stockings, trains, football chants, European politics, and tavern‑room frustrations to show how easily meaning becomes distorted when life feels unstable. Beneath the shifting scenes is a deeper thread: the desire for connection without conflict, for a rhythm between people that isn’t shaped by class pressure, gender tension, or the noise of public life. The poem ends with a quiet insight — that when men and women stop fighting each other, the streets themselves become calmer, and the violence of the world loses its place. It’s a reflection on control, misunderstanding, and the hope that peace between individuals can ripple outward into something larger.