Pacing on cold, honeycomb linoleum,
I watched the sun rise through mesh
curtains. Sunlight striped my chest
like Gothic architecture while a clock
measured the outside. Two strikes
for a car to pass, seven for a lonesome
jogger, twelve for leaves to reach
the road, twenty for a cloud to overtake the window pane, and three
months left for me to watch it.

If my GPS didn’t take me the long way,
I’d never see the luscious mountain tops
spilling trees down their faces in spring
or mallards coasting downstream.
I’d miss out on a patch of stars
filling in for absent clouds
or a leafy overpass catching
the sunlight just right.

Beneath
a Marlboro
hat was his faded straight
pin and rake tine hair in patches.

A carton of Light
100's glowed house fire red
in the cashier's hand.

He pulled a fifty and two tens
from his wallet then coughed
up blood into
his sleeve.

When kids pop more pills than balloons
at a fair, take more rips from bongs
than Beyblades, shake hands with *****
dollars and plastic bags, steal more money
than hearts, are in more mugshots than family
photos, **** more than war, sell more ****
than lemonade, read more billboards than books,
go through more girlfriends than socks in a week,
text more than they write, inject more ******
than flu vaccinations, drink more beer than fruit punch,
put their lips around more pipes than Popsicles,
and die more than live;
then we'll know we've failed them.

I unrolled my sleeping bag like a rope ladder
to get a better view of the searchlight stars
that filled the sky and the river at my feet.
String lights washed up on the rocks unplugged,
but the ones above never stopped shining.
Minnows danced to the clouds passing
like slow motion strobes. Flashing lights
from a private jet made a few stars seem
bigger than they actually were. I assume
the same goes for the ones in California.

Sliding wounds were patched
up with concession stand napkins.
Wads of Big League Chew formed
a mosaic beneath the bench
and smelled like apple cherry.
Spat-out sunflower seed trim
lined the cracking cinder block walls
and became the popular hiding spot
for hair ties and M&Ms.; Lead
paint peeled from the walls in strips
like the white chalk lines
of the diamond beyond the fence.

I sat beneath a silver maple split
in two, yet still growing.
Dead leaves and nestlings
chirping like quick fire sirens
settled in the vein-like branches
above. The maple's cracked
canyon bark was dotted
with yellow lichens like distant
city lights.