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home from the subway station

through my front door

over the years     wait for me to turn eighteen

with their eyes

with their cars

with their children in the backseat

in the empty parking lot     the echo of footsteps giving them hundreds of bodies

with their tongues out

with their teeth shining like flies

after i pay my fare & exit their taxi

into the bathroom

into the elevator

maybe even when i die & step away from my mottled body

i will look back to see them still          one hand hot against their groin
the other reaching for my hair