sunbathing w/upstairs pt.1

i drink ultraviolet radiation
amongst ragweed and dandelion, while
waterlogged one by fours
heckle my insecurities

i am tempted to retrace the steps leading into this, yet another, transit.
could it be i will always be in the station, waiting for someone.
it seems now that even my transitions have transitions.
and there is no imperrative.

my children don't understand they are mine and, i don't feel i am theirs.
whats left besides bus exhaust, an empty stomach, and tired gazes?

i knew all this before i left, but i felt i had no choice.
of course i had a choice. it seems the fantasy was attached like a ligament
i could not move without it.

i do not belong, and i am ok.