I wander alone

on the street

where you live

but I don’t want in.

I see it now.

Those curtains of chintz

are no better than bars

and your welcome mat

can’t hide those scars

while you accuse me

of damage

as you point

from your cell,

but who’s out

on this sidewalk?

Fuck you,

It’s me.

Doing well.

.j.