Submarine

For No One  


Ah to be alive in
mid February 
passing along bridge 
bundled, scarf wrapped 
heavy shoes, empty wallet
raindrops thick in fog 
the Spire, hidden. 


The tide high on river banks 
a drunk man screams
black cat white dog
IMMM GUNA KILL YOU 
we laugh, cross the street 
but unsettled
his echo follows 
with the stench of wet pavement.  


I will wait, creeping silently 


I will wait, creeping silently 
one day none of this 
will exist and
to those who believe 
that destiny is a drug 
just got high 
offing disillusionment.