The loose threads Got tied up, without any pleading or plaiting Knotting and knitting themselves Line, verse, chapter, braided, book upended And like Gretchen, I often feel nothing We’ve, he, her, they’ve, dumbed me down, just so But maybe when I watch homeless children And when my own, visits me for the last time This summer on Spring Street Those things we endeavored The why of why we met Those things we wished for I do and don’t regret When your pictures roll like finished film in my sleep You are so attentive and kind Unlike the you, I know Delayed, blinded from white sheets I show Outside, the Bob Marley woman dances The man picks at his tattoos like plucking a heroin vein The shirtless near-teenager…