Poetry
Jeanna Stegman
Denizen
I've exchanged my fortitude
for a denizen of disillusionment.
Playing I spy through the trees,
alcohol and gravel.
Teaspoons on Kerouac Street
with half-intended poetry.
Dancing with beggars on lonely streetcorners
watching the lights change
from green to gold.
Imitating urchins on cheap wine
and seducing cigarettes
with smiling eyes.
Somebody forgot to turn on the sun today,
so I spent it alone in the dark
with caricatures of railroad men
and municipal stairways.
