CROW GOLD

Out on a limb 
I might try 
to illustrate the world a little –
other countries
blah blah blah - 
this is how it is or was:
once I was a cat sitter,
the floorboards were
warped and dangerous,
I though I’d write dispatches
from the fire escape
but never had
the nerve or will.
On Saturday nights
my friends look heaven-ready
on the dance floor
I’m standing by the pole,
chewing on a lime rind:
waitressing dreams,
breastfeeding dreams,
breast dreams.
Would it be nice
to be as vulnerable as trash
knocked free by wind?
Crow-gold,
exposed and up
for grabs.