the smoker

standing out in the middle of the

road, in the middle of the

night

probably staring off at some

great distance, squinting

he has something he wants to

tell you

grabbing a smoke

something about his own mortality

safety

something about silence and words

maybe it’s about something human

his own set of circumstances, ours

maybe it’s about something higher

than that

irrational, even emotional

his own brand of solitude,

yours.

‘Be the change you want to see’

when I blink I see stars, every poet’s nightmare

at night I creep home and steal the dark

I am an ox with Jewish guilt on my shoulders

I am my mother in another life

I never recognize my own reflection

I should be more assertive so I don’t slide

love yourself don’t be like your father

go just go then have fun I want you home

now. row of lamps feel scripted after pretending

I have no fear, and everything to lose.

are you satisfied with this sort of existence?

inertia is the struggle against time

as the measurement of change. 20 bux for a

slice of American old fashioned baked pursuit of

happiness. are you satisfied with this

muscle weakness.

motion trails. big dumb dog eyes

always sad, selfish for connection,

orb pupils when I blink a burning

sparks. in deep hours I break in

smelling like trees and immature confusion.

I take what you say and let it weigh me

in my pocket like loose change. like the

capacity to change. like pennies for thoughts.

I am a broken record rewinding an inner monologue.

I feel this is important so I write it down.

berry tea is lovely in a clean white mug

and Fight Club is an excellent movie.