and i just don't want to be a coward anymore
is what i should have wrote
and asked why i feel so comfortable and uncomfortable
at the same time
in the same place
why i feel so like a man
and so unlike aman
amen
and Allah i ask
i bid i beg i question
i sweet-talk with
hair slicked back
under the boardwalk
sung in spanish
over the radio
i kneel down
eyes closed
hands folded
while a room
full of myself
punishes me
and over a cup of coffee i realize
she has already been already been dead for ten years
and everything goes on the same
as it always has
me in my cold-sweat shirt
and you standing over me
