back from norge

back in boston
walkin lost on streets
swarms of shoes and beeping phones
rough faces and rougher talk
brisk walk and brief cases
boston you're super practical and oh so money!
you make me want to go back to school so that i dont become
one of these invisible folks on the margins of your day
the ones walked passed forgotten and blamed
if i quit school and i become poor will i become a junkie too?
is that what you do
to them?
why do they talk to themselves--
they not only beg for a coin but for an eye and ear
so dont be mean.
in boston and its surrounding jiggle people eat ideas and news for all their meals and
pamper their guilt, a book store full of addicting liberal stuff
whole foods around every corner
a n d coffee (organic fair trade crinkly faced old jungle woman of course!)
harvard, mit, tufts, blahachusetts
all these people with umbrellas, geometric eyebrows and hungry eyes
and tense loins
little cinnamon, pumpkin, pilgrim spectres, old this old that
400 years old
our grave stones have been around long enough to have that look and be erased by the rain
that's how old we are
burp:cobble stones
norway is a very sane place i now see.

also: i must be more than all these numbers
must be more than my inbox of emails
passport number
negative bank balance
flight number
i must be more than a pair of lungs suckling a joint
a pair of eyes begging the night
and more than this always a bit too small male ass
in these crusty
dump jeans.
i gotta take a look at all these parts
so it is i have returned from a far away place as so many have etc
to reclaim a fragmented life
and scattered friends

for now
these days feel raw
i'll soften unto myself under the eaves of youth
now more fragile and precious than ever
ill dig myself into a dream