Park Street Station, Preoccupied
You, you delicate you. You don’t know this
but you get caught in my sweaters
all the time. I’ve built
an entire ocean on less. This hunger, this city
folds my sense of metaphor,
has me ordering conflict
when I meant coffee, something
you’re all too happy to throw back in my face,
still, you stop traffic & flower the Common at your say so.
Love me, delicately, elbows and all.
This is Boston and so the night looks starless & orange.
I’m right where you said to be, I’m looking for you.
You’re everywhere. Delicately.
Adam Grabowski is author of the chapbook Go on Bewilderment (Attack Bear Press, 2020) and his poems have appeared in such journals as Ninth Letter, New Ohio Review, Sixth Finch, OVERSOUND, and elsewhere. Adam lives in Western Massachusetts where he is currently the associate poetry editor for The Maine Review. adamgrabowskipoetry.com
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