having known not much
I launched myself into this world
and found car dealerships
and the curtains folded badly
in funeral homes

my feet brought me here and
I follow them mindlessly into corridors
of my own making, badly designed
dormitories, edgy monasteries, open
sores

this flaccid excuse for skin I am in
billows like a blowfish in
slow motion
I am recalcitrant
and echo the bad wind

how
outrageous this theorem
that presupposes a life
more meaningful than
mine, how

thoroughly timid
the march of time is when
people are dying and others are
pretending
they won't

 

8-8-11