something brewing

i wept this morning - over nothing -
crossing Essex with the mailman,
freezing like a pane of glass
in every gust of wind.
the sun was a scalpel.
i felt trapped in my infinity and opened
my esophagus-
sometimes, i make noises
to remind myself that i am still alive.

i walked past the Creperie,
making eyes (as I do each day)
with the mustachioed Israeli opening the gates.
she returned my smile
hesitating less than usual.
in-between the corner and my coffee
my cheeks ran dry
but something lingered,
reaching down into my chest,
leaning up into my mouth,
grasping nothing
my personal Tantalus.

i purged my hurts into a bucket
i washed them down a basin drain
but the sadness still clings to my throat