in the crack of the sidewalk

i exist on my terms of solitude — 

it’s safe and unchanging — for now

but soon the walls will rot 

soon the walls will fall down — 

the walls i built walls

of many, many layers of cardboard

to protect my solitude

it's cheap and it's all i have

so out of blank-minded desperation, 

so out of fear that has come full circle into machine-like stupefaction 

i glue together layer after layer

with the disappearing purple glue-stick 

my nanny bought me

before i left for college

but it's florida

and the rain comes every afternoon

and it easily soaks through each layer

and so here come the bugs — 

they feast, chewing through every layer 

faster than i can lay it down

and so here come the birds — 

they feast on the bugs

they scratch me up pretty good

they don’t mean to, but they do

i'm surrounded by cockroach legs and bits of cardboard

i lay shaking

the owl atop the stop-sign watches me

and i watch him 

and that’s all, we just focus on each other

the owl and me, his big eyes 

and my big stupid body

and that’s enough

to focus on one another, that’s enough

and when it's later and the rain has stopped

when it’s cool and damp

i lay atop the sidewalk

i feel every contour and gristle

small things could be like great mountains and canyons 

if i weren't so big

in a few hours the sun will come up

and warm what’s left of me 

and i’ll use what’s left of me 
to try again

until i’m small enough to live 

in the crack of the sidewalk