Terribly Overgrown

:piano sounds:

it’s always easier to text me or email

I don’t do in-person things too well.

The people you know are shades that don’t

glow…like a sick man’s bedroom… like

a dormitory floor. You can disinfect and

sweep away crumbs, and they may shine

for a moment in time. Function over form

tells me they’ll all be dirty once again.

I wear a tattoo on my arm…of a fox in fox

clothing…in a suit showing off his teeth.

And when nature and class meet,

these will be the crossroads set

out before me…running into woods.

We are lines walked…

Roads we took

When all roads

Looked bleak and alone.

I miss people…people I used to know, back in

backyard afternoons spent on trampolines and

in basements. I miss not knowing where to put

my hands or who was fair game.

One day, I drove back to that backyard when no

one was home…I found it terribly overgrown.

Text tagged as: poem spilled_ink love young poet poetry writing indie new_jersey