I can’t remember
If and when and–
Did I tell you?
That it’s a windy day
Where I am.
Dainty slivers of twig
Tip-toe a pained ballet
Over the cobblestone and
Asphalt mix of
The sidewalk off 6th.
“Let’s take a walk,”
I’d suggest.
But I don’t.
I’m alone
On a park bench where
The yellowed cigarette remains
Beneath my bare toes
Make an ashen nest that
Burns
A little too slowly for comfort.
“Hey,
It’s a beautiful day.
With a breeze, no less.”
I’d say.
But to me?
The city steams.
It’s smoke clouds
Carve out a delinquent place
For people like me.
You know.
Those who
Stare a second too long
And smile at thoughts
In public
That are only murmured softly
Inside one’s head.
When I swing my legs
Above the gum-darted pavement,
My bones crush.
Fighting against one another
In an agonizing scrape of
A mis-aligned brass zipper.
Brother and sister
notches gnawing at
Each other’s skeletons
When an October breeze blows by.
It’d make you cry,
“Oh!
It’s autumn already?”
When the scent of dead leaves
And fireplace embers
Already soak the air.
But it smells like burnt sugar.
Street food’s drowning sleepily
In oily wombs.
Oh, to grow up a perfectly rounded
And sweetly dusted donut.
$1.00 in change
And I’m gone. Sold to a dirty
Palm and with a primal
Ripping, salivating, swallowing-
Well,
How nice.
Until the nausea kicks in.
It’s like when my phone rings
With the hum of your voice
And I listen and laugh
To the sounds of my own gagging.
And you innocently ask me:
“I can’t remember if
And when and-
Did I tell you
What I ate today?”