UNTITLED #7

in ten years I see myself as creased
as the khaki slacks hanging in your closet
swinging as fingers brush past
to grip the hanger on a suede blazer beside it

in ten years I see myself blotted
tapping at the floor with closed fist and rag
gentle circles to pick up spills
rung twice on each side above the sink drain

in ten years I see myself winded
lungs misted by marlboro landscapes
yells at taxi cab drivers on their lunch breaks
from curbsides only sneakers touch

in ten years I see myself as creased
as the khaki slacks hanging in your closet
folded the way your nana told you not to
so they hang wrong when you pull them to your waist

photo belongs to the author