is the brick wall
concrete
piss smell
swelled feet
strange letters
dark days
minotaur
methadone haze
is the cell phones
briefcase
coffee
face paste
rush forward for my needs
climb ladders
get money
when the wind pushes my hair
or the alarm squeals
when the too-calm woman warns me where i am again
when they jostle and elbow
when i see Mama and Baby Girl versus the world
waiting …
waiting …
waiting.
reality
they walked arm in arm and he left her at the stairs
and he said, “baby? souveneir?”
and she turned her back and glanced at me
she rolled her eyes and trudged away
still fierce
students only
where were you
and where are you going?
the alarm was sounding again
i can’t function in this sound
and across the tracks going north
he grins and plays a standing folk song
“this city gets worse and worse,” she says
and suddenly we are no longer talking of books and ice cream
“i was walking,” she says, “and they were so close to me,
and i backed away so it wouldn’t get me.
but it could’ve …
could’ve gotten me …
yea it could’ve.
five dollars. five dollars!
and he said he paid him …”
reality
can you see?
can you see?
“you still making art?” i say
and suddenly we are no longer talking about blankets
i saw him with his suitcase asking for quarters
“i still got that special eye,” he says, “but i stopped seeing …
i stopped seeing.”
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