people watching 

sometimes i am just a lychee nut seed.
suck the sweet veil from my face.
i go outside & look for a prophet. i am a witch
but sometimes i get religious & want
to follow a questionable man 
into the cathedral of his mouth. this is
what it means to grow up catholic.
my priest would ask me to help him dress
when other altar servers were not asked the same.
i still can't tell the line between worship
& weapon. i am shaving my head again. 
the neighborhood kids play house 
in the middle of the street. i am doing the same.
i am playing house in the middle of the street.
a man looks around to see if anyone notices
him leaving his dog's poop on the sidewalk.
then i am at the mall & i'm nineteen & alone.
i have a notebook & i take notes 
on how different people move their arms.
a woman waves them like wings. a man
crosses his tighter & tighter. everyone 
has money fingers. i have knees that ache.
outside the house yesterday i heard 
a couple screaming at each other. she says,
"get out of my life." children played a block away.
played house again. a little girl laughed 
& said, "get out of my life." a mail person 
shoves letters in the box. everywhere 
people are moving like ants or like prophets 
but i can't find a single one. i decide i am
my own prophet. go to the street lamp 
& confess that sometimes my dreams 
are poison gardens. my blood boils over.
spaghetti bones. either to watch is to be
or to watch is to be without. 
i buy a terrarium & fill it with paper people. 
i name them after their ghost counterparts.
now i don't have to go outside. now
i have enough to watch right here.
a sun creeps into my window on eight legs.
little earth. little religion. the priest says,
"help me eat the bread." so we do. we eat
& eat & eat. dense & grainy. alone
in the sacristy. the nuns come in & watch.
the other servers come in & watch.