upturned green mugs and greasy hair
i want to lay my head on your stomach
and listen to whales and oceans and steamboats
and smell
cardboard boxes with a slight hint of trash
just enough to make me pause
somewhere in amsterdam
somewhere in massachusetts
nowhere near here
gasoline fills my nose and the barge cleans
garbage out of the water—
that’s all you notice and i’m just a pigeon
just part of the scenery.
and the chipped green mug grazes your mouth.
you run your fingers through your hair
a build up of greasy residue
anywhere in this country
anywhere that i’m not.
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