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I stalked your friends
found your bloody feet
your ditched bike.
I stopped.
My eyes half closed
I caught defeat
diseased. guilt. want. wishes. scratching
for you to scream your disappointment
disgusted, spit on my face.
Punch me! Please!
Grit your teeth
I crave your coldness.
Look down on my cowering,
tears washing unwanted over your ankles.
Laugh hard, drown out
my begging to bandage your feet.


I’ve got your knife
sharp sharp butterfly
digging into my hipbone.
other pocket’s worn down,
right back faded into the Virgina map
crinkled over Highway 58 east west circled ink blue
Repetitive thought i lost
you near South Hill’s so far.
so far.
I would never. on purpose…
“Use your mind!”
Practice your preachin’!
No, no! I should have stopped cycling.
Saw two sherriffs.
One said he saw you
heading back thatta way
pointed finger where you come from.

Press in, pull down, flip out, close up,
(think about you)
put back in my pocket.
digging into my hipbone.
sharp sharp butterfly
You’ll need your knife for the road.