on the clean sidewalks of this town?
Not knowing where to go but present
enough to hear the crunch of an ant
that he unintentionally steps on.
A person who stays on the official
concrete paths can kill without
much fear of being stepped on
or beaten by a stick. Here comes
the new pedestrian bridge that looks
like a hand being pulled slowly apart,
pinkie and thumb going east and west,
the hand of a person widely believed
to exist, to be at large, a prime
suspect in killer sneakers. A person
who smells like me, like sweat
and cinnamon gum. Who recalls
my past toothaches and yet refuses
to look at me when I speak to him.
Who is therefore always being
interrogated, walking a sidewalk
around an interrogators eyes,
anticipating the next question.
Do you see a person whose mouth
is speaking to you? Dear person,
how are you? I have a drought
in my eyes. This town has forgotten
how to rain. Im walking too slowly
toward any one ocean. As a nomad
or whale, Im nearly extinct. As
a mail carrier, I screen your mail.
I have less and less to lose, my body
will be found in a septic tank.
Therefore I love you with my whole
starvation. I give you this leaf
that controls everything.