I think there’s something more, Something you’re not telling me, A thing you’re not saying… Or perhaps many things; Many little things that Make one big problem. ‘yes, it was I who put the empty carton Back into the fridge. I also want a break.’


I sit here making marriage vows with Strangers on the subway, Complementing their failures As we tiptoe through weeds That grow in the cracks Of our carriage.