I would walk to
Rockbottom
cheap as hell but they close early.

So I go to Winston’s,
they got the fruit punch, the mango madness,
no mint.

To Duane Reade,
then D’agostino’s,
no mint.

Capitol Deli got the
summer peach, very cherry
but I ain’t seeing no mint

gotta walk to Olympic Gourmet Deli
on 87th
they’re blasting a classical symphony when I walk in
and I seek out the beverage section
refrigerated in the back
and sure enough
I find
Mint Snapple. Victory is mine!
$1.25, says the old Chinese proprietor
(I could get it for 50 cents at Rockbottom
if I brought my Dollar Savings Club Card
but I have no choice but pay
75 cents extra)

I pay with 5 quarters,
go to Hollywood Video
rent the Princess and the Warrior
and Tie Me Up Tie Me Down
Pay,
walk home,
I hear the guys
gathered under the McDonalds canopy
laughing
loudly
across the street
at my direction.
Paranoia? Insecurity?
Nah,
these peoples
are actually laughing at me.

Why?
I should have realized;
Taken out of context,
I am a straight out freak
and come to think of it,
I don’t have no fucking context.

Walking Home
Being Laughed At
All the happier for it,
I smile at the nearest passerby,
confused they look They see:

15 year old male
but kinda hard to make out
exactly what he’s about
top or bottom
top to bottom:
Long bright orange scarf wrapped round my head
(Catherine gave it to me Friday)
Short neckerchief tied around the scarf
navy blue with white polkadots
(Brody’s mom gave it to me last summer)
and I got long, blonde, shaggy hair stuffing out
that ain’t been washed for a few days
Puffy jacket, feeling shorter each year
used to be neon green
‘fore it got so damn dirty,
unzipped,
kissed by the windy night.
Black white lightning patterned button down shirt
long black microfiber pants with only a few small
holes in them
socks, one toe blody,
shoes/ worn to the brim
/ torn through
They squeak when I walk
even if not wet.

The passerby doesn’t smile back at me
damn New Yorkers
so fucking cold.