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Thinking in Pictures

Thinking in Pictures

The subway hums me tiredly into the city
At first it refuses
I know to bribe the turnstile for the magic words
OPEN SESAME
The doors grudge open

A fresh bird splat
A drying froth of tubercular sputum
The foamy casing of the spittle bug
All this and more performed in the thick Plexiglas window
By the unknowing artist and his stealthy Zippo

Green as sick and left for dead after a long drunk
Broken glass on a trash-strewn hill
Cries out as rocks must
Murmurating brilliance at the strike of a glancing beam
Spring is too young to cover this nakedness

Clamors for love and validation
Crowd the breath out of every surface
Spray-painted, etched, burned, gouged
Whatever it takes
To starve at our eyes

See me
Love me
Tell me I Am

We present with words

Are we so different?

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If the Shoe Fits

If the Shoe Fits

If the shoes fits, smell it
You know you will

Do it

Grated Parmesan
Black truffle?

Inhale it

Dismiss the watchmen
Close your eyes

Embrace it

Children, take out your pencils
Draw lines to match

sweaty shoes                                          gin
stinkbugs                                                culantro
loaded diapers                                       oxtail soup
bananas                                                  fish sauce
Scotch tape                                             sex (says Barbara)
kids’ dirty undies                                  Parmesan
armpits                                                   kimchi

Stop playing dumb
You get it

Admit it

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