i sit,
in my watchtower
viewing hiked skirts
from a 2nd floor
pealing off the skin
crusssssssst
on my arms, thinking
“19”
i,
sit,
green from trees
invading,
pupils dulling,
life multiplying,
i in my infertile
watchtower,
above coffee shop
2nd floor,
watching hiked skirts
bounce through streets
the ghost of
charlie haunting me.

Sustaining life
for extended periods
is much more difficult
when currency
is entered
as a variable
in to the scenario.

If I could, I would
live in the forest.
If I could, I would
sleep under the
stars, every night.

But, alas, I can just
afford the thick wool blankets,
and I surely can’t
begin to rent
a campground lot.