marcescence

circling Herbert Von King park,

I taught you what “cycloning” meant—

a technical term: 

losing yourself in the proximal vortex of another’s face.

a good idea at the time

has given way to a pylon inserted into my brain at a 90-degree angle.

holding my pink Frankenstein bike,

bearing limbs from bikes of every borough,

I think I’m getting the feel for this city’s stretch marks / blueprint / fluvial arteries.

it’s nothing exotic:

it’s just that one can really hold their dead leaves for way too long.