I am always the one
who doesn't know the way,
the one whose life is wrong,
the one left out and then included
by violence.  Pinned
between the powerful
and those they have beaten,
I have no friends.
Tall trees bring good things to my mind.
Fountains bubbling in central ponds,
the dump of electric forests.
Shades that waver and dip
from wide windows,
the scattering of refracted light.
Thin rugs stretching over
a wrenching floor,
the made-up faces of brutal women.
Cleansing chemicals in a frozen parade.
Chairs that wait for nobody at all
next to bricked-off doors,
and a twilight like dandelion seeds
being blown far.