I see an image online, a head pounds a wall
& I think, that’s me, I’m the head & the wall
I’m pounding my head against, I’m all those
apartments in my dreams that are so difficult
to get into, narrow stairways & tiny trap doors
mazes of rooms opening one into another
& another, twisting corridors & hidden exits
& all those cities I get lost in again & again
dark streets & broken down vehicles &
I’m always alone, even in crowded markets &
sometimes there is music
sharon brogan | march 02020
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