from “Lonesome Poem”
By Ross Robbins
Until clouds turn
black. Drizzle ink
burn holes through
Until the drips
of graffiti join
Sweet as hair. Fizzy as wet glass.
Bleeding on a school bus. Buttery
like a fat woman’s heart. Not some
self-same suck maid. Erotic like
soccer socks. Needy like a rich man.
Gentle like a weird hat. Sensible
like a scar. In the event of an
emergency. Soft-spoken like
a metal thermos in the hands of a boy
with dark brown hair. Trying real hard
to come to a point. Insinuating nothing,
but meaning everything. Show me
how you touch yourself. Private as milk.
It’s been a while since your last haircut.
Your neck is furry. I’d make your neck wet.
the tobacco out
butts, left the black-
edged papers on the floor
of the bus. Again, tonight
I will sleep alone.
The city is
grey in its
choking of green
I went to a park
where the grass
On my back
all the clouds
Without a name
I am just