Downmarket Drugs For Upmarket Thieves

I open my eyes and unfurl
like a flag against the base-blue skies of middling winter.

Hose, straw, forty dollars, ripped maroon puffy vest,
girl asleep on basement sofa, and 6 stops to make before home.

Don’t stop. Don’t turn off the stereo.
I dream about making amazing conversation and laughing lightly,

but I’m here, pushing the cold force of my massive middle.
Sit in the doorway and listen for people.

I’ll be out in a minute, don’t talk.