Sick In Detroit

SICK IN DETROIT

I could run away the way
I'm used to cross continents
and city streets
packing my bags around me,
but what good pretending is
sometimes
doesn't do here anymore.
Leaving was your idea
and pretending
I hadn't touched you at all.
So while you packed the bags
I went out because you asked
for tomatoes out of season
because you asked.
Later, miles away on the bus
I ate your tomatoes, all eight,
and was sick in Detroit
on some bags beside the bus.
Everyone knew and pretending
wasn't any good then either.
Copyright © | Year Posted 2016

Poem

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