friday sonnet (#61: pillar of salt)

no option & when you splurge you’re

booked or vetted, facing the door of the

blameless & the brain is shaped like a

train with some nightmare right beside

a paper cup. that heart attack who,

as the air moves through, trades &

she was you, you were her, don’t look back,

rejects strung out unvalidated & never

after the vision recedes your ears whistled.

go for the lot, face marked but otherwise

followed you from aoyama, ain’t never

in your chest like a couple of rocks in

a reservoir because of this / sticky, oral,

you & your cigarette breath rattling.