so something came
across today
while I sat waiting to
be heard
I learned the hard way
and I asked your airwaves
did you get my last message
but the city, the arts, the people
can distract your antennae
while I walk I hurt, and talking to
myself helps too, this red pen is
the beginning of the end of
a trail with plenty of tragedy
yet I trace the outline of my scar
while being effortlessly ignored,
have you been talking to me
all this time?
sorry, the concrete, the street
sounds, the stroll in a world of turmoil
sent my brain miles away…