So I stood up and blinked, then swallowed,
Swilling saliva, tasting blood.
There is nowhere I cannot go, now.
Blowing bubbles, braiding sweet meadow grass
Into the shape of a chain.
Wind buffets my thin empty form to and fro,
Scuffing the gutter like a plastic bag.
Beautiful head full of nothing,
Where did you go?
Eyes bright, reflecting fluorescence and good fortune,
Scanning the pavement for loose change.
Who heals the scab at which I
Pick pick pick?
Next time, it will be faster.
Nothing gets better.