my shoulder aches like a gift
- a punch-holed receipt
for thrifted yen. like
2008's winter collection
that stuffs my closet.
i died then - when i saw you
r shirt. i died when i paid and left
the oncoming traffic to stick
double-quick needles into
my dead-numb chest.
sew the rain into veins. stitch
into me my never-ending
thread of longing to be a poet
or scientist. i'd rather die
than admit i'm not good-looking.