coroner's report

the unidentified

abandoned body

in the back of the ambulance that’s

headed to the police department

belonged to a poet;

a friend of mine.

he used to write about

everything—

this is to say that

there used to be an immense

number of topics he only dreamed

of learning before he

decided to walk down 5^th avenue

at 3 o’clock in the morning on a Tuesday.

this is to say that the men

who christened their knives

unto his back didn’t care about his artform

but cared deeply about the contents

of his coat pockets.