I can’t stop the noise for long enough to buy
a pair of shoes and so I walk these aisles
with gritted teeth. Now you call
me angry and so what if I am crying?
Everyone sleeps while I
sit being spoken to, not listening
with a melancholy air. Spiders
find me since there are
no windows here and they —
as black as black —
are crawling, crawling, crawling
Still I am stronger for they
do not carry this weight. This itchy
stabbing weight. And they
I cannot walk too long upon these young and veiny knees.
Everyone’s a ghost and if I ever meet them they
will look past and ask about this scar or my arm
or make a sporting joke. And we will laugh at first
thinking we have found new water. But it won’t be. Just
another drowning pool.
Shooting stars and betting boots. This isn’t