I was talking about suicides and governments
and cities in foreign countries and listening
to Bruce Springsteen on vinyl. I was thinking
I'd been smoking for two weeks straight
and that was my run. There was nothing on the road
that night. Nothing on the other side.
I was worried for my friend
who was caught up in a friend
they were worried about. There were no motorbikes.
The road was closed. The bins
had not been emptied and my nephew was learning
to stand. Some people were walking their dogs.
High police presence. Cat shit in the gravel.
A pile of books. Empty bottles. It happens.
