it's me, tom, talk
as fog not cheap & dead
that tree was a phone
cracked as winter's up
a little girl's eyes
zooming
after fade of motor
cycle makes you
wonder, says her mother
have good days, says the
baker, faded have
good days out the
door, down the street
i'm lost as that, good
as fog not eyes & bodies
yawn a school—
it's me, tom, school
as fog not eyes & bodies
after fade of motor
again i get
beat up & move school
to school thru race
riot as if body were
speech — it is, & that was
the 90s, in shadow, much
