Saturday, March 26, 2011


its different here
because the air has changed
my lungs are filled
yet I'm so thirsty
dying to breathe
smelling like a paper mill
a dumpster
and I'm still an
infant, young sapling man
limbs branching out to the sky's
farthest reaches
you're still
a broken shell
on this polluted beach
at the end of my street
the salt air is a tide
rising into
my chest when I'm home
kneeling down
to touch the ocean
as she pulls away

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