i want to be unrecognizable.
if i am the direct result of this city street then take me out of it, pull the concrete of out my bones and the glass out of my eyes. unwind my spine from around and around the boulevard. take me away away away from here. i would love to be a gold-tipped feather on the wing of a bird tied to nothing but blue sky but instead i am a portrait knit up with red-edged pages and dirty water spray-painted onto the chipped brick wall where the men sit with their wrists out. and i sit there every day. these stairs– in a straight line. that green chair. every day.
i am so tired of looking like the faded yellow vein in the center of the street. hello home, i was made in your image. hello home, i do not want this dirty face. the sky is in my hair and that helps but i can’t help thinking that if glass could burn i would set my reflection on fire.