inappropriately. Union Square
this morning is nothing to write
home about until the Sudafed
kicks in. Living socially versus
snakes in the grass, passing out
next to each other due to anxiety.
How to reconcile missing the
screamers who would awaken
me somewhere near the middle
of most nights. When I’d
sometimes be sleeping. The
secrets they’d scream. To
be so prone to spill every bean,
to let the cat out of the bag
so that the world could go
back to sleep. Relieved, an
appropriate citizen makes her
way back into the catless bag,
her home for the long summer.
