WINTER 2018 TO 2019

His name was Johnny.

He was a shorter guy

In line behind me

For General Delivery on 9th Ave.

Johnny was an heroin addict

With a shifty, impatient stance,

And a grating whinge.

He was an all right sort, with a problem:

How to get the stuck cap off his Bic pen?

Big help that I was I tried

To fix his ballpoint;

I ended up piercing the palm of my hand With it - the shock! The bleeding

Was minimal, but the pain, blinding.

Johnny quickly secured me

A hand towel to stanch the wound

While I saw stars, and the loving

People with whom I share my head

Made plain their wishes to be with.

It was the winter that NYPD personnel,

Upon seeing me approach

The post office, prior to my

Wounding myself,

Aerted their gaze,

And could not look me in the eye...