if it makes you feel any better
I see you everywhere,
in the eye of the sad
dancer in the park,
the panic of every lost
tourist, righteous
scream of a child
hearing no,
all you, hating
me. I understand
that a poem
is not an apology, but
as you mentioned,
I’m a coward. And I’m sorry
to report that karma
has so far skipped me,
like when that cop
followed me for ten blocks
but then only asked
if I was okay. Or
when I ambled
through Whole Foods
like a smug ghost,
eating an entire box of cookies,
loading vegetables into a cart
I knew I’d abandon.
I just want you to know
that though the universe
appears to have forgiven me,
or more likely never gave a shit
to begin with, I am doing
my own form of penance,
a walk the length of Manhattan,
meeting myself
in every shop window reflection,
letting the blisters
form and break
inside these shoes
I should never have worn
in the first place.
Powered by Froala Editor
Powered by Froala Editor