maybe rain
is a way of telling time
flush from the corner of the wall
to the appleseed out back

i broke my medicine trying to tell you:
everything is okay,
i've been back to
whispering troubles into bushes again,
hoping the leaves catch the bad stuff
and pay my parking tickets

i'll never work in a restaurant again
even if the ground burps lava
even if the little girl needs diapers
i'll never go back:

that's what i tell the leaves
as i fill out an application

that's what i tell you–
got your daylight in a jar again
got your pack of smokes
and your billowy eyes

create a scraper
score the wall with tape
make sure it's plumb

i'm grown and gowns billow around me
i'm forgetful, i'm combustible
yellow leaves swish my secrets
santa of the insects
scatter crumbs
grumbling little miseries like
why is it so hard to keep a car in new york
flash mobs need to die

are you in the subway?
i've done searching
and i've done burying
are you on the street?
collapsed in the snow, people who
have never walked on ice
people who
don't dream of the inside of freezers
who can't create cold
like magick
from their glands

i need to glue my shoes
should i buzz myself in?
should you grin
i'll come in;
should you pout,
i'll stay out.