by Robbie Sugg

I live in a concrete monolith
cells divided by
              sheetrock plaster plateglass plastic
                             pipeline blood vessels
                             cars parked in the bowels
              straight cut standing tall
              a clock tower (no one reads)
              to top off
                             hotel consciousness.

Walking back from the library
              cheap paint, brain colored
              highlights waiter valley Oak
                             branches as currents
                             and conduits curling
                             in the leafless lung.

Passing under naked canopy
              cold wet air biting
              my thinboned hands

didn’t notice my old friend
              walking by.