Chase men’s denim throughout [this] connection
grey and brown pigeon collects a love affair in the middle of the street
jumps toward traffic light when the green arrives
woman of red lips
swollen in window
I wait for her to notice me
she is mannequin
siren. horn. rubber against winter wet or confused spring
“what will you leave behind”
recover extension of organs
these are just lines
no one waits in them anymore
they are too busy
drawing them
a slice of orange
mural dripped into rocks borrowed for this moment
“there’s no constitution”
everything must go
woman in yellow neon runners
sits on groceries
rolling her addiction
a sink, an egg poacher, something called
a zen iced-tea maker
EXCLAIM
poet runs across street
this is the last time I saw her
ivy cannot be trusted
women wear pocketbooks as though they are men
slung over
branches like the death of Autumn in Liz’s garden
a yellow wrapper with twenty bites left of chocolate chip or raisin bran muffin
a pumpkin sacrificed for its color
these trees, like starved dancers bending backwards
these are the last of the leaves
notice the backs of her thighs
like lined paper
I have my words ready
do you think in haiku as well?
“I want this for breakfast”
I put my reflection of my body into her
blue-sequined dress
even as a shadow
I am drag
when I have no one [left] to embrace
I notice everyone else is
this wind slants
yellow plastic caution drowned in Sunday puddle
“once you figure out what subway to take”
the
“should we do the softball pose? what kind of pose should we do?”
Aimee Herman 