I’m going into Kohl’s
at seven thirty seven A.M.
I’m going into Kohl’s.
Have I not lived?
Am I alive?
Is this what I do with
my partitioning?
The fluorescent lights
split
thoughts in my brain.
I was once alive again.
A bird.
In sky.
There’s a song beyond sky.
A song without.
A song within.
I go into Kohl’s but still
I live,
my eyes on last year’s
Super Bowl sweatshirt,
a pretzel bite dissolved in
my mouth,
memories of my vanished father,
visions of the crags of Delphi
from the air.
– Poetry by W.T. tuqMairtin