The light is yellow without
  and blue within
as I putter back and forth
around the house trying to
remember the name of the substance
I am craving.
It’s not coming to me.
But it feels like a hole in me
with definite properties-
shape and volume
and weight.

The problem is none of the vices in this tiny apartment
quite match that space
or have the same volume
or weigh enough

so here I am
with the windows open
in my underwear
as the first real black of night falls-

trying to fit a square peg into a round hole.