Vestry Street

The bigger they are, the harder 10000 gallons of burning jet fuel makes them fall. Oh, I miss you dearly. Greeting me in the mornings, welcoming me home in the afternoons. Now I talk to psychics, give them advice about life and weight loss, and they let me know how I’m doing. Misteriosa botanica, curanderas, whatever. You’d love to know me but you don’t have the time to become part of my memories. My patience is always fleeting. Love, love, love. All grey and asbestos-like.

There are beating hearts

sliding down

even in terror

a beauty pageant crown.