Wherever it was I thought I was
I guess, by now, I’ve already been.
I need a subway token, a mystery
and a buttered bagel in a brown paper
I need a better excuse to get a tattoo.
I’m thinking about ink, and how it
and the way we use it to see what we
A token, a turnstile, a possible ride on
cross-town shuttle as it tucks its tail
leaps the rails. Going through the
takes so much time.
The ride is the riddle, the unclaimed
The dirty teacup my son left in the
I want to believe in not being noticed.
I want to remember, I want to forget;
The hours I’ve wasted, the dimes I’ve spent,
the anger I’ve fed with a silver spoon
daughter, in the green lizard T shirt,
up jeans, the knees gaping, runs from my
an unspooled thread I must catch in
That’s the lost ticket, the unseen map;
the thing I am doing, when I’m doing
just riding it out, the turns I take, the
I make with my two front teeth on the
skin of the first peach of Summer.