WHEN I AM NOT IN NEW YORK


my productivity of being alive has waned
with my surroundings aging
or i look with jealousy at a city i've never been

i say, i know i am wrong
over and over and over again
so i can stop deaming

you wrap me in plastic trash bags
when it is raining

but who am i
is just speck
is just loose grin
is just drinking and drinking and falling

i take breaks between breathing
to keep out the air of this earth

my productivity of life is waning
i have opened the wrong nostril
or smelled too much of you

what am i baking
a rock
that spins around the sun