Every word has its own agony: an expectancy. Or is the expectancy mine? The agony, too?

city bus

.



This time of night
every judgement sticks.
I am glad to be heading home.

I want to run around
with a pair of scissors in my hand.
I want to run as far as I can.

I want to see how far I can get without shoes, without socks,
without money, without good looks,
without good luck.

Here by the window,
the heater ticks against my ankle. 
It is the only part of my body that is warm.

I think to myself,
"I wanna end up knowing everything
and not get in trouble for any of it."


Rain, freckled across a windshield.


.