This is the thing, I know,
that will expose me.
To all the folks who openly chose me,
all the friends who caught me and rose me,
all the blood that thinks that it knows me,
all the eyes whose openness froze me—
my stillness unclothes me;
it taunts and erodes me.
My curtains have closed; see
this silence? It shows me.
He drove me past the Corner Store
where my childhood sits on a stone ledge
overlooking a road where I’ll start and end:
fresh pavement, some litter,
and me, a watchful friend.