Saint Jude
Up before the alarm
again, throat dry,
head full of nails
each tagged with
a recipient soul,
keeping it together.
You've never noticed
the pensive man
eyes on the back
of your head as
you window shopped,
cried on a city bus
or tried to pay bills,
chin in soft hand,
the other rummaging a
deep pocket for grains
of hope, fuzzballs,
reasons to go on.
The positive error in
your checking account,
your daughter's smile
and numerous little
micro pleasures,
often discovered
after you've clambered
off at your stop and
I've rode onwards
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