Powered solely by wind lifting women’s skirts to touch their legs.
Powered also by the biomass of bananas
ripening in boxes in warehouses worldwide.
This energy rises along with the sound of a single cricket
stridulating in the public silence of morning
plus the solar power of thirty seconds of sun
leaning up against the overpass at close of business.
By the sway as the cats all move to their windows.
Bedbugs herd us room to room.
By the force of demolition trucks hugging the beltway
then breaking free, leaving this city’s orbit for another’s
useless rumble, displacing some air.