The Long Walk Home


you slip into the alley

between the railway

and the ivy


the alley

leading home

to the never-ending



look between the railings


there is a wetness that clings

to the surface of the leaves

the trees

the iron railings


even discarded

condom wrappers

have an abandoned


having lost all memory

of their former selves


you think of home

and of the sadness


like cooking fat

to the kitchen walls


your spirit slips

between the railings

curls up in the leaves

and dies


your body walks home


toward the sadness

and the sadness

and the never-ending argument