glazed donut ice cream

i took jericho turnpike 
to the edge of my mania.
the parking lot was big enough
to have a wedding in.
i loved that shoprite. dull yellow glow.
my phone like a pocket knife.
carts that whined 
as i made my way down
the flickering neon aisles.
everyone there was hungry.
shopping with fists full
of glazed donuts & ice berg lettuce. 
i always thought of parking
at the station in hempstead
when i was done
& just taking a ride until i escaped
my own veins. a city is a place you go
to bury your face. to become 
a vessel. i walked around as an urn
collecting the ash of any boy
who wanted to tap his cigarette 
against my lips. once i parked
outside the apartment.
terrified of being a skeleton
i ate a pint of glazed donut ice cream
with my hands. knuckle deep.
turned on the radio
quiet so only i could hear
& not any of the people
walking down main street.
i licked my fingers clean. spoonless
& shaking. i wanted us to be
elephants in a third floor apartment.
i wanted too much or maybe
everyone wants too much.
when i was done i found
a trash can on the sidewalk
to throw out the container. 
it was late. almost 11. still,
i stalled before climbing the stairs
with my hands full of plastic bags.
some kind of deserted bird
spilling on the living room floor
still hungry.