changling

I can’t promise you anything and my word is good
in this regard
I dangle with this key ring’s ambivalence
to service
over lackluster piles of transformed yesterdays herded
into a locker for whomever pays the fee
after me
it is not the first time I became futility’s
changling
playing with certainty I enter the drug store
the clock is ticking
the chewing gum laxatives are bright signs of relief
hung on metal brackets specifically made for such
items
someone designed the boxes
the hole that the machine must punch
precisely to end right side up
here during business hours
I snuggle into the aisles
erasing the edges of my sillouette
I can smell myself sleeping in my clothes
*

changling

Anthony DiMichele

Friday Harbor, United States

  • Artwork Comments 2

Artwork Comments

  • mmargot
  • Anthony DiMichele
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