the way the light reflects off concrete walls

10:45 AM.
The way the alarm slaps me upside the head
‘get a life’
Clinging intimately to bed sheets, empty dreams sweet escape
from bitter reality.
The taste grows on my tongue, sour.
It is better to have inconvenience flavored truth
than putrid aftertaste lingering around, so feet make its
way to the tiled bathroom floor.
Each article stripped from body serves as a stepping stone,
into the Niagara, out into Newfoundland.
The shade from trees rarely melds with
the shadows of swinging limbs.
Cracks in the sidewalk laugh as mini mirages rise
like wild grass.
Warm bodies soak up the sun
like sponges in boiling water rung out overhead.
Downtown buildings make way up the skies,
predicting late arrivals to work,
like sundials cascading their embodiment
onto occupied shoulders.
Mind full of concrete walled women,
none of them interested in four dimensional love affairs,
as they are all concerned with the stars
rather than the neon signs that shine on stripper poles.
You can only say how are you doing today to the same person so many times a year, so why do they continue to visit during my closing shift if they know blank stares are to be expected.

10:45 PM.
Solar radiation caresses me without asking,
intoxication from the sun — being taken advantage of during sunset,
as it illuminates the ugliness within me so gorgeously.
With the sun on my mind,
I throw my letters in the paper shredder
since she loves talking to me so much.
Claims of loving the other more,
how little she must know of him,
as he himself is scared of summer,
knowing the sun is out longer,
accounting for more time for him to pretend that he doesn’t need sunscreen.
But ah, yes — he does, applying ribbons of SPF 70
under eye lids and inside nostrils.
The more he glows, the blanker the slate becomes
as a new coat of white is applied.
Every night is spent awake,
fearing routine morning.

10:45 AM.
The way the alarm slaps me upside the head
‘get a life’


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