Sitting in a ratty chair on Philadelphia rooftop
Watching planes circle the gotham skyline
as lazily as the mosquitoes
that have followed me across six states
and are the only insistent secrets buzzing in my ear
and the only reason
I have to believe
that I actually taste good.
In this shroud of night and smog
I bow my head
And nearly pray
And thank God for one moment
I am alone.
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