Nicknames scratched into the sides
of arcade cabinets because the leader boards
are reset way too often.
People steal the shopping carts
from local shopping centers
and then you see them later
pushing them around flea markets
on the opposite side of the city.
I don’t wake up for less than
the best day ever so I’m comatose,
and lacking nightmares nightly
still the window opens brightly
in the mornings when I sit there
thinking rightly that I’m wrong
about most everything I know.
Still I get up and go
when everybody knows
I hate to be there like I’m better than
the sirens sounding outside
pulling someone off the road
for something suspect.
I am the average blade of grass
that mixes with the rest of them
so underwhelming as an aspect
of the eye you cannot see me
so much as everything around
me that I’m part of whether
I would even like to be.
I see a woman made of thorns
on nights I cannot sleep in the corner
of my room and she is growing
ever patiently, tearing into
everything she touches.
I frantically dial a payphone
on my way home from a movie
that I sat through hoping it
would make me tired.
I am sure someone is after me
because I hear the sound of
running feet but I can’t for the life of me
pin down just where it’s coming from organically.
Hitting just some random numbers
I listen to the dial tone
completely alone except for
what I cannot see, waiting for me patiently,
just outside of the corner
of my eye.

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