me
opposite sides
of the tracks
is a bit of
an understatement
wouldn't you say?
i want to know
you and your marks
i want to spend
hours investigating
the ink in your skin,
the stains on your sheets
and the rifts in your heart
left by other girls
and make you bandages and breakfast
he swaggers when he steps
as the gutters fill with water
rushing. gushing. symphony of sounds
city songs, i call them
and i close my eyes
take a breath
take a step onto MLK
his fingers are covered
blood red paint splattered
i see evidence of his deviant
art on every corner of this city
i walk alone save his watchful eye
the drops drop bigger than before
hood up. quicken your toes girl
heavy bags. arms sigh as i reach his street
drip. drop. splash. puddles. ruined boots
to the iron clad front stoop
i'm going to need a key
to more than just his door.
and a clean pan for these eggs.
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