Scratch the surface.

Walking by your side
My head down, shoulders rounded, heavy
It occurred to me that I should stop,
Check the time, and commit
An endless unraveling of pulled wool thread
Weaved into promises of expository resemblance.
The comparisons are never ending and seldom unfit.
“You wear it for a while.”
I will begin again tomorrow with the same start, at the same seat
With the same saucer, spoon,
And without sacrifice
“I will wear it.”
Then again, I could be
Somewhere else completely.








p.s. it is more than an itch, it is a rhythm, a pattern that forms in my head, then through my fingers…tap, tap, tap. Did you hear it? There is no mistaking the origin, is there?



He is aware of the seepage
Bleeding under the bandage
Yet he can’t quite fight the flow
And who the hell will know
About broken bones
And your superimposed overtones
They will all inspect the damage
Because the charts report more to me
Than you will ever see
But oh, how well you see








(Who rearranged the furniture?)