Month: February 2017

A man on the train
I’m opposite him

A sagfaced man
     who must once have been fat
A man perhaps forty
     with thinning dark hair
     a rough laugh
     and a phone to his ear
A man in black sunglasses
     on this grey day
A man whose open shirt lapels
     frame a small show
     of dark body hair
     on wan skin

A man who has known violence
I see that somehow in the way he sits

A man wearing terrible broken sneakers
     with a well-pressed suit
I don’t ask myself why

I
dreamed
a large penthouse
apartment with
that
woman
inhabiting it

The one who expects
things of me
and then
gives me
hell
about them,
mocking me and
balling
her fists,

because
nothing is ever
good enough
for her
and because
the world
hurts her

The world hurts her because
she expects
everything
to hurt

She expects everything
to hurt because
something
she doesn’t remember
was inescapable
torture

Why does she
inhabit
in my
dream
such a tremendous
apartment?