I Hate it Here

I Hate it Here

tempted by edges

it was my past, but

horoscope charts

read in blood levels

like reviews of

phobic television

scripting that day’s teenage

paperbag twenty-minute

fugue

better than other

people

that’s what’s taught

in rooms of anglicized

generational trauma

all top dog

piles in jest

then a drag

or a swallow

i was through

i think i hate it here

in part of the 90’s

that never traded

discreet intervention

for ancestor acceptance

reflections in the storm door

recognition running through

the front door

i found the edges

at parties

i found the best

parts of myself

at the quarry

fucking up the words

to the anvil chorus

what it is to be

left

is to remain

then

there’s a song

solves a riddle

for the next five

minutes, this is me

resolves to a solitaire

pattern in the clouds

covering the big sky

with tropospheric shifts

until the sun comes up

& the last one to leave

the party

should lock up