Chaud, walking in the midst of the freeze

If I were to run right now, it would be because of cowardice
and I would hate to see the wind playing games
with my coattail.

I wish that this were a simple plot,
with three characters (I like three characters)
and every phrase that came out of
any mouth was profound or pointless.

I wish the smell of one a.m. wasn’t so familiar
and so stale, like the smoke from forgiveness
and regret that linger on the inseam of my garb,
leaving trails of last night and blind spots
around these city-towns.

It’s the black on green of mourning
that makes waking the task of champions.

The final five minutes of walking out the door,
leaving paw prints on the threshold.
Making the first move and then forgetting where you started,
Or why you bothered.

I would eat an apple every day if it would get me closer,
if it would help me escape.
I would swallow the seeds if it wasn’t
so close to death.
Planting them, instead,
in hopes that something would grow.

I wish that every time a person said
a piece of flesh would rip itself off.
or hair would fall out,
in clumps,
clogging every part of cleanliness.

Too bad the clock struck 11:11 too many times,
and all the wishes saved up are eons away.
And its a shame,
that lions have hearts.