the bags under my eyes.
the bags i fill for a vacation
that never lasts.
the bags i collect
from staying up late thinking over
why i'm always so tired
the bags stolen
when someone realizes i need
i need to sleep.
the bags in the shop windows
of things i can't afford.
i can't afford sleep
i can't afford a name
gucci
or even just
joey,
these paper i could never recite
a play i cannot act
the emerald wisps of flattened cotton
i cannot find.
-jb
