Look yonder,
backwards, to the left, to the right.
That’s me,
standing alone under the streetlight.

I try to place words in their proper place,
this one has no place:

I breathe in the wine in your voice
and taste the grape of your struggle.
It’s red, and bloody,
like a heart that is shaped
like a small island.

I’m a simple guy.
I like simple things.
The sun on my  back.
Disco bands from France.
I like the way you used to call my name.
My name that is synonymous with all things

It’s going to be a long night.
I don’t think I’ll go to sleep.
It’s going to come too fast.
I don’t think it’ll stop for us.

We’re too young to be complacent.
Too old to change.
Too passionate to settle for less.
Too apathetic to demand more.
Caught in the middle,
I’m your little, middle boy.

I take off my shirt, take off my shorts,
take off my socks, and wait for the cops to come.

Look yonder,
backwards, to the left, to the right.
That’s me,
standing naked under the streetlight.

I went to CVS for toothpaste.
Bought hand soap, deodorant, a candle,
mouthwash, a carton of milk, gum,
and a pack of razors.

Walking back I realized I forgot the toothpaste.

If I could ever catch up,
I’d ask you what you’re running from.
By the shoes on my feet,
you’d think I’d have the answer.

Yellowy eyes and wolf teeth.
Tore up my driver’s license,
the confetti filled the bird’s nest.
Blackened chicken and turn signals.

Lost amid the cacophony of my heart’s chatter.
Eating through the world one stranger at a time.


5 thoughts on “Steetlight

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