i’m writing this while leaning against a streetlight, 
looking like a lost cat poster.

i’ve been here a long time. there are prizes 
from the machine in my pocket.

you’re probably pissed. join the crowd waiting 
for me in the parking lot.

dirt like me has no choice but to give you everything 
should you find your roots buried.

when someone grabs a pizza, everyone picks off what they don’t want.  but no one can grab some toxin out of the ground and feed it to a dog with his fingers.

you are covered by dirt. i wouldn’t necessarily call that holding.

i am going to step back from the picture. or the water. 
and look down.


Comments are closed.