Little lover of solitude


walk down the avenue blocks

heavy feet in rubber boots
you’re in a movie

set to Spanish jazz

wash the world grey

observe the sky crying on the other side of a  puddle

maybe you’d be happier there

some better, sepia-toned, upside down frown

look at the park from a fourth floor window

the soaking tiles look like slinky scales

of a snake giving itself a hug

or trying desperately to shed its skin

like that sunburn summer before tenth grade


maybe if you were a snake,

your mother could more easily forgive

your slithering 


runoff braids on the concrete

carrying pinky sized flower petals

white bruised obscure


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