Sunday, January 13, 2008


This is YEARSSS old, from when I was in college. I can't remember what it's from, but it's deffinately from something.

At night I hold my various and sundry needs to my chest.
Less like cards, more like badges.
Call the exterminator, call the super.
Call the cops. I can't stop knocking.
Can't stop scraping at these dividers.
These miles of contempt and concrete.
Zoning that feels like affection.
Time's bad lease: we built over another people's graveyard.
I would clean the streets in your city.
I would dig the ditches and pick up the trash.
Make keys for changed locks,
and put a stop to crime.
I would vote for all your mayors.
I would answer the phones,
wipe the tears from your windows.
I would do the dishes.
I would do all the dishes.
If you were a plot of land,
I would bury myself.

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