9/6/18

which parking spot it was eludes me
no matter how many times i visit
i pretend it doesn’t irk me but my mind
won’t let me off that easily.

everything else is clear:
the fog that emerged at sunrise and sat
worriedly embracing the car,
the lone sailboat quietly smacking its
lips, waiting for the carcass,
the low gray ceiling stealing all
promise of a sunny day,
the frustration of knife cuts
that coagulated & a blocked tail pipe
that didn’t keep its promise

i walked into the hospital like someone
entering a cafe for their coffee and
found himself in a dream of line drips,
blood draws and an interview
that had no correct answers