i miss you in the way of the oyster knife (i've never used). with precision. stabs to the abdomen. high-pitched squeal in ears. unavoidable.
icy hot tiger balm
cold air pecking at a face
is that a crow or just garbage
bags stuck in a tree
i raise a black fist
printed onto a sign
punch myself in my own throat
walk with me we
could stop anytime
startled by a truck blazing by on the left
muted headphones
haven't written in decades so stop
looking, judging, typing
who knew the heat was so hot
or freezing who knew
did you
