money flies from my palm as if it's endless
(I know better yes - don't tell my mother)
I eat as if I am endless
whiskey in my cup cash only in my wallet
sitting in a place to witness time instead of the other way around
she tells me when I'm with you the trees are brighter
and I have no idea what that means
but we drink to it
our stomachs hurt collectively
everyone is figuring out what is wrong with their bodies
while failing to enjoy having a body
tirelessly picking it up place to place
bathing it brushing it picking at it
trying to change it's shape berating it
train drags along its tracks
floating gently in my last cocktail
lonely as a sardine
quiet as past midnight local
carrying so many Cinderellas, so many not-Cinderellas
what is underneathe the peeling paint?
oh
just the bridge
sometimes it's just me and the bodega ATM having a hushed conversation in the corner
sometimes it's just me and the sunday smell of laundry soap