Want, by Rusty Morrison

crowded Monday subway its       mindlessness botanical     
you take the first seat claim it        for your age your figural       
effaced your t-shirt smelling        already like somebody

else's sweat a toddler is       crashing against your leg his     
mom gives him a sucker he       hasn't figured out how to     
fit inside his mouth you taste      the instant's sumptuous pause

between confused and choking      on surfaces you can't fit      
your lips around and swallow       incentivizing short terms      
that electronically       spit you out your genes passed on

without you in the pool you     
didn't know how soon would drown     
you