old home dusk folds
into one last cicada cry
cardboard boxes
smell of rice steam and cedar
i wave shy bye
to a sky not-quite-blue
plane hums all night
dreams spill like loose pachinko balls
morning lands grey
ypsilanti snow whispers
nobody waves
sidewalks stare then look away
hello sticks fast
to the roof of my mouth
square peg heart knocks
against round town’s quiet doors
i smile crooked
laughter falls out upside-down
perfect maybe
the only song i can hum
off-key and soft
still it keeps my hands warm
street signs stand straight
i wander diagonal paths
english bends strange
like paper cranes in rain
they can’t fool me
my crooked thoughts fit just fine
inside coat sleeves
lined with leftover home
if you see me
lost between stoplight and lake
please don’t run off
i carry small cookies
friend-shaped pockets
we can share the lost crumbs
even if it
makes no sense, like me
