a jib crane and eventual death the caving metal roof, last century’s rust
she sat in the rickety purple train with nothing but a yellowing photograph, a bar of chocolate, and a dream.
I don’t wear a watch, I find a watch, spy on everybody, scan every wrist. Who has the time? I do, stolen, sneakily obtained by immoral means, by bending and turning my head and casually stretching to feign interest in strange black birds whispering outside the windows of monotonous chemistry classes. (when does this end?)
“Fasdfz djsnu” “What?”
"Run!" they shouted grabbed my bag, left the books
I will be here, my love
I’m a piece of paper