Jake's Flea Market

this is a poem

it's a lit
window in the night

not even mom drives
out of town into the country to look 
in through it 

if she did she'd 
see something of me

i’d tell her it's also a door 
something of me comes out through

she'd remind me i tried 
that once before tried to push 
something i thought something i worried something of me 
out

remind me she reminded me then she wasn't 
interested in that

that was the night i went to carole’s hoped 
marie would come into the life where i lived
alone and she did

but she never sat down she was in a hurry to get 
out of my life across the bar 
into the life of the weatherman who was 
more interesting

i went 
home made 
this window made this door stepped 
out and looked 
in

saw 
something of myself and it was 
amazing