Invisible Surface: A Cinquain

To be
afraid to walk
on these icy sidewalks
is to freeze not just this life but
my soul.

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There She Is

Not ready for the flash
mob to erase her
memory of him. Or
his name. She confesses

to her Connecticut days
and nights. No one
will recognize her
in this white tee, black

hoody, blue jeans, white
sneakers. She could—and
she will—take
another route home.

Don’t Say Catalyst

Another city, another black
bird soars over pedestrian

heads. I have one. The least
unease matures into full-on anxiety

about what clouds
won’t hold. I’m not afraid

to fly but do fear those
with the will

to—agents flying, flew, have flown.

True Type

When this conversion is complete, I will
no longer be compatible
with myself and all
I said and didn’t
repeat. I will become a new country
where roads are paved for pedestrians only. Not
an aside. Center walks will encircle
the island—bridges dismantled, memories
beside the point.

Another Scramble

Meet me at the bus stop
where we won’t wait
to see another quarter
moon translate the sky 

into a language for pedestrians
without a bridge. We won’t wait

for anything—we’ll be walking across 

12 lanes of traffic,
all lights with us, headed for
a destination we shouldn’t have
been so eager to meet.