In The Shade

You come out here on some old hunt

limping

from formative wounds

dents to the fender

Friendless, new, shy

your eyes spin and squint

from culture shock and sun

Everyone who passes by

you think-ask: 

Won't you come kiss me
hold me
share this warmth

by the air-conditioner?

Stare into my eyes

under the ceiling fan?

In the shade
with your daemon

squirt gun in hand

a pack of sandwiches
upon your lap
you'll wait
heavy

heavy with knots
not drawn here 
tired from the bad chemicals
that follow