Saturday, September 29, 2012

Fork In Me


From the top of a supposed skyscraper,
I counted the buildings,
then the floors beneath me,
one by one,
down Michigan Avenue,

thinking about what I wanted to leave behind,
when I jumped off of this concrete ladder,

he dripped me dry,
stripped me of my rhinestones,

I had not smiled in more than 72 days,
I was keeping track of my desolation,

with one Mary Jane over the edge,
I had nothing more to hold back,

no fear of the concrete pool below,
no remorse for who I might stumble upon on the way down
no interest in reliving our happier times,

finally numb to things I should have forgotten about long ago
anesthetized,

These gargoyles were even less friendly than they look

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