don’t know how I will catch up
by
lining
up
these French toast sticks
heel, toe, heel, toe
the road is slick like syrup.
the triumph of the few makes the many
seethe
in
and
seethe out
walking without road maps"mainly because, I insist, their design
is unappealing unappetizing unclear and
I do not understand.
but I do. I justsimplymerely refuse to
heel. Lie down. Sit. Speak. Roll over.
and
play
dead.
cinnamon and brown sugar burial grounds rise
behind my apartment
mounded from crumbling discarded
instructions.