The Scarlett Locket

The Metro was my best friend then

I took what I could get 

and lived in a different dimension

with a soft smile in reality. 

I heard the blue-red 

of the crimes around me 

the murmur of sirens

covered by recited rhythms 

that kept me company. 

I kept record those days 

and every two weeks 

I’d collect my money. 

‎‎‎

I wore it on my way work,

wrapped around my cold shoulder.

Eyes on the ground,

the pavement reflected 

it back to me. 

The gray-black of my life

stained the white 

of those margins.

The ink of an invisible tattoo 

is bleeding from me 

but what’s there to believe 

if we can’t even see

each other? 

Caught in a night,

The moon had me hooked 

On what I thought I wanted.

The anxiety I was promised, 

Call it space, 

past the hills, out of sight 

that’s not enough, is it?

‎‎‎

The Metro drove me home then.

I think about everyone I’ve met

to keep us alive. 

The rough touch and go of nameless faces,

It’s tough on the mind.

Let’s call it a day.  

‎‎

My hair holding the smell 

of a dark roast,

syrupy sweet,

undone for the day.

a soft belly on the blanket

a body floating on the bed.

duerme

‎‎

As if the cold distance hadn’t numbed me to death.