Thursday, November 29, 2007

Home Beneath The Amtrak

the flicking of many bics
the comforting roar of the Amtrak train
lulls me into sleep
each night
the breath that escapes
between those ruby lips
pursed around the stem of the pipe
the rats are my pets
i feed them crumbs from old hamburgers
only half gone
the meat rancid at times
just needs a little more fire
to purify
i am the mole
who shrinks from the daylight rays
my face an ashen grey
turned up to the pallid day
as i search for aluminum cans
marking my time
before i escape to the underground

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