I am in a river,

sometimes moving…

sometimes adrift.

The shore reveals




Still, I flow

without control

among the ripples

that drive me



Fucking pedestrians,

they follow no rules,

face no penalties,

observe no form

of common sense…

act with impunity,


have the law either

on their side,


simply turning a blind eye.

They are like Gods on the streets.

I envy them.

If I drove as they walk

I would surely have murdered

thousands by now.

Does not warrant

The woman in the SUV
saw me
playing my harmonica
in stop-and-go traffic,
it’s something I do
from time
to time
(I am trapped
in this mundanity,
am I not allowed
some outlet
for my soul?)
It was not
in the having been-seen
that I withered.
It was her diminishing nod
that said, at once,
“How nice,”
“I’m not judging, but…”
I was caught
at an open moment
and it felt just like
being stripped naked
and pushed out
into the world.
I shouldn’t have felt that way,
but then,
don’t I give
that same look
a thousand times
every day?
It’s not judgemental;
it’s worse:
It’s quiet dismissal.

Drove home in the rain

Sometimes you get down

it’s hard not to take it personally,

but the rain isn’t falling

just on you.

In a way, it would be easier

to think of the rain as your executioner:

there for you alone.

That’s a crazy kind of arrogance

but you can wrap it around yourself

like a warm blanket.

But when the things that bring you down

don’t tear everybody else down too

it just feels useless,

to be feeling anything at all.