Sly



Sly ones (don't look!)
creeping behind the fog

They are waiting for us
to give into distraction

I watch again and again (rewind, play, rewind)
the train wreckage of my life

Press my face against the window to
watch the rain drip through the cracks in my chest

it pours-- running in slides
but does not stick in my hair

I let my hair hide my face
so that the sly cannot see me

Each muscle moves with careful thought
hands slowly gravitate

Fog slides down my mouth
to get under my skin

Stupified, I fall,
owing myself to no resource.