Pilot

There I go,
down boulevards on lunch breaks,
filing myself between dropped scoops
of ice cream and drooped eyes; I go
drooling along the promenade

as a prize
steams like steak at the finish
line. This is a temp job, at best.
I have thirty-five minutes to
save my soul with some morsel of

prophetic
soul food. My movements pull me
to model T mentality,
walking down Tetris bricks to the
steady heartbeat metronome

of my toe.
I am not the pilot here.
This is not my vessel, and I
will feel these black bodies passing
right through me and into the streets.

Reviews

[mimia7861]

Powerful use of imagery here
I like how you structured your stanzas which I'm assuming was deliberate in its visual of modeling a kind of static normalcy.

[tressa]

nice emptiness, always in everyday life....