i read the stories
some saw you bottom up
some top down
some idolized you
some still do
i never saw how
your black gum filth
crawled under my skin
summered in my sweat
strangers standing breathing
too close on the A train
into Queens poverty
on the street in the subway
the bestowed anonymity
was a kind of faceless grace
i prepared to force myself to fit
but felt like the only one
who knew it was a dream
and couldn’t wake up
No comments:
Post a Comment