vervain______

those things
i cry
for
i cry to
over and
over.
on the sidewalk
that could trip
the feeble
or blind,
i steam upward
sweating
and ugly,
alone
and lonely,
pushing
the stroller
over
slabs
of
uprooted concrete.
just you
and
me,
kid.
your mother
is
a fucking
recluse.
she calls me
and talks about
a
turtle
and i
really
don't care
about it,
steaming up the
hill
most of the
cars in the
drive
gone
to work.
it seems i am
in a desert
of my own
design.
it appears
i have
already
become
bitter
and
old.