Sunday, November 16, 2014

i got lost in brooklyn a few months ago, wandered
no-number streets and warehouses that all looked
nothing like home, home is a door frame painted over so many times 
you'd have to gouge 
your way to it's original shade, home is a slightly sloped room, home is a feeling of uncomfortable
comfort, home is the exact buzzing of the exact weight in and on and all over-
home is not drunk in brooklyn.
i realize that every time i have taken the L train 
i have been with her 
or without her.

staring at my iphone screen, scanning for any 
landmark or building or ethereal sign, my little glowing "here" dot
jumping from street corner to street corner, leg burn from whiskey and unfair inaccuracy, screaming up to some GPS satellite-god that
"tell heaven that i might be late, i am lost and waiting to be found, i cannot tell you where i am, just that it is 
and i really need you to come pick me up, okay?
i am stumbling through your alleyways like a desert exodus interspersed with intimate warm water oases of touching her face before finding myself alone, thirsty, again.
heaven, forgive me for craving, it's just that
i do not know how else 
to get this need
outside of my body."
brooklyn, 1 AM, still displaced.
i wish it was 8PM and raining, i wish my dot would calibrate

google maps, as hard as it tried, couldn't tell me
the wrong turn i had made
from the L train

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