Peter Gizzi - Wrapper Frag

The world today

is slowcore,

a rhythm section

dragging.

At the moment

I drag and solo

in a bitten landscape,

torn vowels

that sound out vowel

or sadness like glitters

prinkled in a mind.

A sun-slashed parking lot,

thinking a poem

stalled

in the broken

surround.

See the chubby kid dazed,

his spilled bike,

more debris,

CVS in the distance.

Remember me

to convenience stores.

I saw this too

every life of my day

yet I ate, I had money,

and a car.