on instagram
on twitter
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