Epaulet

i caught sight and was on my way
the building looked familiar appearing on doors and guys
zones of affluence and poverty     say
my old neighborhood never looked so prosperous

restaurant at then     too
store across the valley looking small crowds in their twenties
it’s no longer the house of fire i remember
laundromat and a small motel asleep calling it lunch

	my consciousness is made up of storefronts
	i go to a different one every night     the haze
	seems static that way     i like to stay there
	i stay on the same block for the rest of my life
	buses go by about three blocks from here
	my passport crawls     up my sleeve to my shoulder

from Yew Nork (2014)