my eyes stumbled into the purest,
most volatile pair of steel irises;
ones that i had glared at, spit on
and loved erratically. more violent
now. i want to tell him his plants
are dying; his library books are overdue;
that it’s almost may and winter is coming
and i hope he finds himself soon
so that he can quit hopping freight trains
and come home-- that they’re worried.
but his eyes don’t soften
when they meet mine
like they used to, and i know
he will come to no re(a)l(iz)ations.

woh. hot shit. Punctuation, capitilization, Capital poem!