confine
broadway @ 67th street, nyc, summer 2003
This lyrical thing was spoken on a bus passing, appropriately (as a song), Verdi Square in the 60s along Broadway. Except for "singing," the end words of each line rhyme. I recall in saying this "song" tension: The stress of waiting out the rhymes.
I recall, also, in this composition that I was thinking of the musician Beck, imagining his compositional process.