i too

poor skin poor poem poor people someone was waiting for it

someone was poor

someone wants me to say

in spirit

but bored, i won't

i will not i say i will

scratch

kkkkkkkkkkkkkkkk

(pretending.

                        letters are streaks of lightning.)

it matters with whom you converse about such things.

this the fix, the poor poor shot smoke drip dry

we wring. hands and things. i carved a simple cigarette

from false teeth. she smiled. her walk half hearted,

a dismount.

waves of carsickness become her. i prick up such ears

and cough. i am one of the “them”. i am “we” which is

sung with spirit

in unison

i am the start or the swipe

full-throated with a clench of fluid or fabric.

i too display

i too perform

i too

i too

june 2015