on thursdays i realize how still
blown wide open i am
wonder if people can see thru me
see me blown apart
and i realize how indifferent
these buildings are
these carved facades hit with
sunshine, warmed but indifferent
it doesn't matter to these stairs
on this street
that i had with my mother on the phone again
blown wide open
by thursday
it doesn't matter to these buildings
whether i keep it together
or not- they have no memory of me
doing one or the other

and it does not affect this street
fair oaks in california
that i glide so easily
down it on my bicycle,
only to move onto the next street
glancing at the buildings around me
warmed by the sun going down into
this thursday night