Mummies

wrapped in the smoke of cigarettes walk the streets of Broadway where curtains are pulled back and fans blow on high. Mummies drink wine to a city paralyzed at 27 degrees. Mummies can't get a taxi. Mummies find the runway to be long on going nowhere. Mummies gather in the public space of public buildings mill around until Robert's Rules of Order send a gavel crashing to the table and things unravel into a snowy pile of guaze.