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
and
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
still;
should
i buzz myself in?
should
you grin
i'll
come in;
should
you pout,
i'll
stay out.